Chatterbox: Inkwell

A kind of poem, thing. About when my dog died. 

She sits, head resting on my lap.

Her chocolate brown eyes gazing up into my blue ones.

Her bronze fur, shimmering in the fading light.

Her tail, wagging though she knows.

Knows that this is her last walk.

Knows it's her last day.

Her last time with me.

I know, also.

I wait, loving the feel of her soft fur through my thin fingers.

I miss her, though she's still here.

She whines, knowing somethings wrong. 

I tell her. 

That last night, she lays in my bed, and I cry myself to sleep.

When I wake up, she is still there, and I pet her, happy she made it through the night.

But... I know. Today...

Today is her last.  

I eat breakfast, though it has no taste.

We load up, my brothers and parents and I.

She jumps in, head on my lap.

And I see a tear.

A tear in her eyes,

in my parents eyes,

in my brothers eyes.  

But more than just a tear for me.

The whiteness of it astounds me.

It astounds her, to.

I hold her head, crying, but I won't let her be taken away from me.

The needle goes in, and our eyes meet once more.

Then she drops her head, and is gone.

Gone forever.

I miss her.

My Brandy.