Gray Squirrel

I did not know

What lay out of my sight

Beyond the sliding door.

But our Golden knew

As he urgently begged me

To slide open the door.

A gray shadow flew over the deck,

As the dog, like a greyhound at the gate

Bolted in pursuit.

Past the retaining wall

That skirted the fishpond

And inside my Pup’s kennel

A thick cloud of dust stirred

As if by the hoof of a bull.

But then

I heard that chilling squeal of death

It set shiver through my spine.

Then silence followed

Against the roar of the waterfall.

The Golden, triumphant, emerged.

Covering his eyes

A silver gray bundle, limp as muslin,

That he shook violently

To ascertain, the breath of death was real.

And then laid it gently, so still,

Upon the ground.

He lifted his head innocently,

But seeing my horror,

Through his large sad eyes

Pleaded for my forgiveness

As I stood still, in stupor

Hating myself for what

I should or shouldn’t have done.