‘Dead dogs. Dad’s dog and the dead.’

My brother texted – Dad’s dog is dying.

I wanted to call and let Dad know his dog was dying,

but Dad doesn’t take calls any more.

This morning, I thought of a story he told

from his childhood; a story about a stray dog

and his family didn’t have enough food to feed it.

How he’d sneak it small bites of food in his pocket

until one day, the dog was gone.

I remembered how Dad’s hand shook when he ate

That last bite of doughnut as he finished his story

and I thought maybe it’s good thing

that I can’t call and tell him his dog is dying.

3-17-20