Close Enough For Friends

I remember soft, tan fur and droopy ears almost white.
We named you Cassandra and called you Cassie for short.

Chased by a larger dog, paws left the ground, and suddenly I was holding you.
Obedience school brought fame and failure to my “circus dog.”
Puppies giving birth to puppies, and more than one father they said!
It would have been hard to get a wedding license for a dog I suppose.
Midnight and Sammy came, and one unnamed that I buried behind the house.

Portraits etched in the loose and quickly fading fabric of memory and time.
Saturday games and long walks in the Salisbury Park while you barked at squirrels.
Catching popcorn and bed ball, belly rubs and chicken treats that’s what dogs are made of.
A tail wagging so hard the entire butt shook too.
The famous puppy rug, hind legs splayed, flat on the belly, nose to the ground.

On the last day of your life, you made it to the door to say hello.
I’ll count the bottom of the stairs as close enough for friends.
Fat or thin, fast or slow, nobody knew how to snore like you.
Sleep on little dog. Sleep on.



Cassie died at 3:30 am on Sunday, February 17th 2008 after having lived with us since the fall of 1994.
We buried her beside Julie who had died in the fall of 2007.