The Beast

You struggle through patrol, head drooping
as you climb the stairs, followed by a sad,
longing look back as your legs give out again,
leaving you to sit on the middle tread and
wait for me to help you inside. The treat I
offer does nothing to hide your shame, yet
minutes later you stand a proud protector
by the front door, ears perking at every noise
and then laying flat as the threat is identified
and dismissed. To you, it’s already another day,
another moment – something to enjoy. But I
am still replaying that last cluster in my head,
the vet call, the new prescription added to the
two you already have, the rescue doses of
Valium that almost killed you and wondering
if it would have been better if it had. You lay
your head in my lap as I write, a privilege that
was never permitted in the days before the beast,
and even though your body is tired, your legs
are sore and your tail can only manage a weak
thump on the sofa as I scratch your ears, your
bright eyes meet mine and I know you still want
to be here, even if only for one more day.

~*~

~mvh