Roxy

We used to worry about leaving the door open

in fear you would run out chasing the mailman.

You used to bard, which was really a high pitch yelp, whenever you saw someone outside from your window, trying to protect the house for us.

When I climbed up stairs, you would chase after me and beat me to the top every time, even when I had a head start.

When people you knew would come over,

You used to run and jump all over them at the door to show them how much you missed them.

If a crackle or crunch came from the kitchen anytime of the day,

You would bolt out there, roll over, and start begging for some.

Coming home from our walks, I would take your leash off the last fifty yards

So you could sprint the rest of the way home, flying on your little black legs.

About leaving the door open now we don’t worry

Since you won’t leave the porch even if something you want is out there.

Your yelp has grown husky and deep

And when you do it’s a strain for you as you gag and cough between barks.

When I go up the stairs, I look down and you are waiting there,

So I have to go back down and carry you up like I did when we first got you.

When people you know come over now, they look around for you

And slowly you waddle your way over to them with a slow wagging tail.

It’s a good day for you if you wake up before noon now

Even when I bring your bowl of food to you, all you want to do is lay there and sleep.

When I have time to walk you these days

I have to carry you the last fifty yards because your little black legs have lost their wings.