Katie thinks it improper for a lady
of her distinction to get her feet wet
let alone her snow-white fur.
Late spring gifted us with downpours
that started early last night.
Katie ate her dinner but, as is her usual routine,
wouldn’t venture outside afterwards, "No ma’am, not me."
~
My four-legged and much adored friend
was restless throughout the night
no amount of coaxing could budge her.
She stuck it out until dawn broke through,
then with indignant resignation,
and lowered head, she ventured out into a downpour.
I gently closed the door behind her
in compliance with our agreement
that she’ll go outside when it’s called for
but in return I must give her privacy.
~
I waited for her usual soft bark
telling me she was ready to come back in.
Silence prevailed and privacy or none
I had to venture out. There she was,
sitting on one of the porch steps,
a spot not sheltered from the rain,
guarding the lifeless body of a tiny sparrow.
She looked at me as if to say, "You know.
You know what you must do."
So my friends there I was in a torrential downpour
digging a hole for the feathered remains
while Katie, soaking wet, but with head held high,
watched my every move until the deed was done.
~
I started back inside and Katie ran to a bush
from whence she retrieved a chew toy
she had hidden for "a rainy day"
she placed it on the little bird’s grave
whimpered a last good-bye then ran
past me to quickly return inside.
I dried her off and now she sleeps
as content as a dog who is understood can be.
That’s my Katie, my beloved Katie, who never ceases
to amaze and delight me.
The most loyal of friends, the kindest of hearts.
Surely she must have a soul.