I wrote this poem upon my brother’s passing. May it bring comfort as we remember all the saints and souls who have gone before us.
The poem tells the story of what the dogs my Brother David and his wife owned were thinking about in his absence.
Zooey looked at Sis,
in that mischievous way,
Where is our Master?
I want to go out and play.
Our yips are a little less yippee,
Our yaps a little less yappy,
What happened to our Master,
Who always made us happy.
He gave us kisses and never fleas.
He let us do our business on his trees.
What happened to him? Where did he go?
And what happened to our Mom,
She is moving rather slow.
Alvin pawed at Jasmine ,
And echoed what Zooey said.
Where is our Master?
who always patted our head.
He gave us snacks,
And it was always a treat,
When he let us wrestle,
At the boots on his feet.
Where is he Jasmine?
Where is he now?
We got to help Mom,
And find him somehow.
Then Sis looked at her siblings,
And said with a sisterly grin.
You can’t look for him outside,
You have to look within.
For like our brother Ranger,
He went to his Master above.
Who entered the world one December,
And showered it with love.
And he waits for us in Heaven,
Again, leading the way.
Where there will be no more sorrow,
And all good dogs get to stay.
Then all four dogs were silent,
As they turned inward and prayed,
And in their souls they saw our Master,
And again with their Dad David,
They yipped and yapped and played!
Be Good Not Great! 