Take Joy in Old Dogs

By Donna Swajeski

Their joys are simple. A soft bed. A scrap fallen from the table that the younger dogs missed. The memory of a treed squirrel.

Once they danced by your side. The very definition of joy unleashed. A perfect poem caught in shining eyes and wagging tails.

Now, they struggle to catch up. Their pace slow but their hearts still valiant. Don’t go you say, as you scratch the tender part between their ears. Stay longer. I can’t imagine a world without your fur pressed close to my cheek. And they look up at you with a wisdom that just slays you.

Their backs are bent, not from the weight of years, but from the invisible wings they are growing that will soon take them to a place where once more they are warriors of speed, drunk with the sights and scents of a thousand meadows, able to leap high enough to touch the wing of the tiniest butterfly. A place where they will now wait for you to catch up.