ID #3244563

His recumbent figure curves large and weary.

Unfolding slowly to my prudent pause,

He rises on tremulous legs,

Leveling intent eyes like a steady beam to my own.

He cannot hide the effort of his unsteady steps,

Bad hips and arthritis a well-known curse of his breed.

I feel a stir of deep sympathy.

Precious seconds pass as he reads the emotional silence.

He retreats back to his corner,

Circles once, then lays down.

Forty-eight hours.

He could spend it either dignifying a stranger’s solicitude

Or negotiate for a warm bed and occupancy

In a new master’s heart.

Talk story

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