A Poem For Napoleon
We took you from the Colerain SPCA
A little short puppy
With a tattoo
Where your balls used to be.
The first time you met Lily,
You nipped her cheek so much that it bled.
In Cincinnati, you would sit on the armrest of the couch,
Legs spread out like a reptile,
Nose stuck beneath the blinds
To bark at any passersby you saw.
Prone to ear infections
Due to your hairy Wookiee feet,
You would growl and snap
Whenever I tried to clean your ears.
Your nicknames were the following:
Pupperton-maximus,
Po-Po,
Wubus,
And wubbydoodle.
When they put you under at the vet
To clean your ears,
You clamped your tiny jaws
Onto a vet-tech's finger.
In your old age, you mellowed
and mostly kept around my heels
when I was in the kitchen.
Blind and deaf, you wandered out of the yard
Just last week to be picked up
By two older ladies
Who took you
To David's vet clinic in Rising Sun.
You passed on the cool floors of the kitchen
Where you preferred to lay.
I buried you at the farm
Next to Lily
Your packmate
And true love.
I will miss your little short feet,
Your floppy ears,
Your shaggy coat,
And The way you rested your head
Chin jutting outward.
Little old man,
Last of the pack,
Vestige of my youth,
My first dog.
Goodbye.