November/December 2012

I look at him My dog Head on tiny white paws, Breathing heavily. He looks back at me His eyes sad As if to say, “Come to me,” So I do. Then I Stroke his head quietly And he closes his eyes, His breathing deep Raspy And tired. He is small, sick, and old But right now he is with me. So I give him a kiss And let him snore. Abby Shaffer, 12Riverside, California