Canine Elegy

To say that I own him

is so wrong.

He just as much owns me.

We are bound to one another

by a mutual adoration so heart-shattering

that like all great love stories,

it will end in tragedy,

maybe for him,

but probably for me.

And the difference between us is that

I can foresee the day

when one of us will have to go on

without the other of us,

and he can only see that

every minute with me

is full of joy and contentment,

and every minute without me

is full of anxious longing.

And in the dark hours when I awaken

to find him sleeping soundly, with his head

pillowed on my hand,

I am certain that I, to him, am eternal,

and I drift back down and down

coveting his insensible peace.