Like so many others I had known,
full of life and living only out of joy.

But, someone did not care
Did not care enough to teach him
that streets were no place for him.

All it took was one miscalculated moment
and one careless driver
… the last bark was not of joy,
but pain as the car struck swiftly.

He fell to the side of the road,
and the driver passed callously on,
not caring whether he was dead or alive.

The dog would bark no more,
that I could clearly see.

How often had I seen him
barking happily at the large, fast machines?

He never came to this side of the street;
I never petted him, as I did my own.

I ran, then, sprinting over uneven gravel
and found his broken shell in the ditch…
his eyes blinked as he saw me.

My heart broke into thousands of pieces
as I caught the weak movement of his tail.

Broken, beyond repair,
he was going fast.

I pulled him, so heavy he was,
into my lap, taking his large head into my arms,
and held him and cried.

June 4, 1980
I almost threw this away, but the memory of that dog, and that cruel driver, is still as sharp as it was back then, in my mind.