Posts Tagged Dockers

I Hope She Knows

A light, steady rain was falling this morning, so for my exercise I rode my stationary bike in the den. As I finished the ride, and as happens often these days, thoughts of my little old dog drifted into my mind. Read the rest of this entry »

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I Should Be Hercules by Now

I’m not looking for more sympathy, but after spending the last few days with an aching heart, I couldn’t hold this one in. I do appreciate the condolences from everyone, but just so you know, I’m okay and this poem is not indicative of my frame of mind. The painful loss of my old dog is beginning to ease, and the wonderful memories of her are starting to take the place of the pain of losing her. I hope you enjoy this poem. Read the rest of this entry »

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I Thought I Was Ready

Our little dog, Dockers, is gone. We’ve known this day was coming for a while, but even so, it caught us unprepared. She had good days and bad days, but most of the time she did okay. She couldn’t hear or see very well, and I think her sense of smell was weak, but she could still taste, and loved to eat. Usually, she was happiest if she could have some of what I was having. I couldn’t go into the kitchen without her on my heels. The fact is, she was on my heels all day every day for the past couple of years. I called her Bubba Dog for years, but had recently taken to calling her Bug, because that what she did–bug me all day. She could tell time, and knew when it was time for a walk, time to eat, or time for her daily treats.

I wasn’t gonna write this poem yet, but Mary’s prompt for the Saturday dVerse Poets Pub “Poetics” feature said, “Oh, yes you are”, so here it is. It was a tough one to write, but I had to do it. Thanks for taking the time to read it. Read the rest of this entry »

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Cool, As In Cat

The people I live with named me “Cool”, so I try to live up to the name. They’ve got a butt-load of cats, and it beats me how they can remember which cat is called what. But, hey, I’m cool with that; they always seem to get my name right, and the food dish is always full when I’m hungry. Read the rest of this entry »

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Still a Good Ol’ Dog

Our little old dog Dockers is a special little critter. She’s smart as whip, and has brought us much joy. But she’s getting pretty old—almost 17—and won’t be with us forever. I’ve put some of the other poems and stories I’ve previously posted about her at the bottom of this post. This poem is kind of tongue-in-cheek-humorous, but a little sad, too. But let’s smile for now; there’ll be time enough for sadness later on. Read the rest of this entry »

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We’ll Be Back

Our little dog Dockers is over sixteen years old, and in doggie years—no matter how you count them—that’s pretty old. She’s almost completely blind, can’t hear at all, and has a hard time getting up from her naps, which take up a good eighty percent of her day. The rest of her day is spent looking for me, not because she wants to be near me, but because I’m the guy who puts food in her dish and takes her for her twice daily walk. Oh, alright, she probably does want to be near me. Read the rest of this entry »

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Cold Coffee

We have an old dog named Dockers; a small mixed-breed we got from the animal shelter in Austin sixteen and a half years ago. She’s been a delight, and even now, with her spoiledness in full bloom (Sherry did it), and her hearing and sight both nearly nonexistent, she remains a constant source of laughs and joy. Read the rest of this entry »

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When our little dog Dockers was in her prime, she loved to chase cats. We had a good sized back yard, and her doggie door was in the laundry room, which put her smack in the middle of the backyard when she went busting out of it. Busting out the doggie door at a full run is exactly what she would do when someone said, “Cat!” Read the rest of this entry »

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Sorry, folks; another dog story this morning. I write stories from the dog’s perspective now and then, and it fascinates me to imagine what might be going on in their minds. They seem to be such a constant emotion in motion. Even when they are asleep, I think their minds are experiencing life to its fullest. I watch our little dog, Dockers, and I have to wonder what lessons God is trying to teach me through her. Forgiveness and unconditional love are two that readily come to mind. Read the rest of this entry »

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I’m Your Huckleberry ~ 8-15-11

For today’s Huckleberry I have to tell you a quick, funny, story about our little old dog, Dockers. She has a personality that is sometimes endearing, and sometimes, well, not so much. One of the endearing—sometimes downright heartbreaking—things she does is whimper in her sleep. Read the rest of this entry »

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