by Barbaraanne Helberg

Created on: June 15, 2010   Last Updated: February 03, 2011

She and Me

Humans love their dogs, it's
true; mine was a caring child,  
and I a Newfoundland mild.

In early months, I eagerly ran,
but her frailty halted play
in an overly vigorous way.

She was fanciful and sat alone,
plain, weak, but never dull.
At my side was she, just to mull.

I was larger and black, and
loved to run, fetch, and catch
even when she would shut the latch.

Left to run from the yard, where to?
She likely would fairly stew
if I chose to pass through.

Besides, where would I go?

Lying still, she seemed to contemplate
for hours; as I grew, I knew her ways
of hide and seek from very bad days.

A walk to her was reason to think  
and pray. I would willingly go,
then we'd come back so very slow.

The sweetest personality, a smile.
She'd call, "Here, girl", as my friend.
Every day I hoped we'd never end.

But I knew a twilight ever called;
that life was weak and small, and love
would wane through a whisper from above.

Something evil was amiss for her,
it seemed; let me not be afraid
before that time to come, I prayed.

Because where would I go?

So many nights now are very long;
she shivers and shudders an eye
while I ask myself faintly, "Why?"

When first we'd met, I admit
I roamed a dirty, sheltered cage
while she was free and thrice my age.

Soon it was clear as sun is to
the growing rose; after we'd met,
Newfie black, girlie white, we were set.

Days we'd walk and talk and play;
never in doubt with her low giggle
as I would do a shake and a wiggle.

I'd thought that first day to give her a whirl; 
to be her Newfie in a lifetime borrowed!
Now I only hope she'll wake upon the morrow.

Because where would I go?

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