They found you <br />at the shelter - <br />skin and bone. <br />A beautiful Vizla, <br />pedigree pure <br />and aching <br />for love. <br /> <br />They called you Max. <br /> <br />Always a follower <br />(Nicholas took all the bones) <br />your rubbery mouth <br />would crumple <br />as you lay - <br />all legs and love - <br />on the couch. <br /> <br />When Nicholas died <br />you were lost. <br />Then Sam arrived <br />and gave you permission <br />to follow <br />again. <br /> <br />They removed <br />the tumour a few years ago <br />(a third of your body weight) <br />and the very next day <br />you were down at the park, <br />burnished coat gleaming, <br />bursting with life. <br /> <br />Today they took you <br />to the vet <br />for the last time. <br />You were seventeen years old.<br /><br />Alison Cassidy<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-peaceful-death-kedvelt-kutya/
