They are my children — each four-legged canine.
I am human; they aren’t, but they are mine.
Each came to my life, made it softer;
Each has brought its share of love and laughter.
Each pup has known my embrace and promise,
And saved the hope life wanted to tarnish.
They shone — white, or fawn, or tiger brindle —
Each brought a flame that’s forever kindled.
They pulled me back from death, I confess, twice;
Leaving them without me was not a choice.
So they stave my depression with their walks;
Most nights, they engage me in play or talks.
Xena is the smartest, Diana the kindest;
Rolfe often brought my temper to the test.
Zoe, my shadow, I loved the very best;
Bonzo was my first, and Zach’s my first-born,
And each passing gets my heart ripped and torn.
I lost my faith in God when Zoe died,
And when death comes to each, how I have cried.
They taught me early how grave loss can be,
And death seems now almost like family.
My kids have helped build all my empathy,
And love, and valour, and brave sympathy.
They have no clue of hardship, death, and life;
They have indirectly taught me a stray’s strife.
I see and judge the world through their pure eyes,
Because no one in it ever lies or dies.
I give them all the love I have and can,
And each of them makes me a better man.



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