You followed us
to the barn,
late at night.
We played pool
and you slept,
under the table,
barely lifting
your head.
You still ran for the ball,
slower now -
a slight roll to your gait.
Arthritis, we thought.
You swayed as you stood,
steadily watching us,
deciding when
we would be ready
for you to leave.
Our brother,
getting older.
We still thought
we had years
to squander.
You walked with us,
around the field,
swam doggily in the pond,
that one, last, time.
Then you laid down
and would not get up,
would not move for a treat,
nor thump your tail,
at the sound
of your name.
And we knew.
that you were done,
that you were ready
to leave us
to feel you gone.