Dark Drooly Days . . . .

I thought I heard a grumble . . .
I thought I heard somebody's familiar sound.
The sound that is a cross between
a snore, a snort, and a fart.
A sound so lovingly familiar to me
yet when I looked up
he was not there . . . .

I looked up
and the skies grumbled!
It was 36 degrees HOT but look!
The sky is grumbling!

I ran but instead I saw Popsy Sumo.
Popsy was hiding too.
Popsy heard the sound of thunder
and even bullies hate thunder!


Rain follows thunder.
Thunder brings rain.

Rain washes tears

Tears washes pain . . .

If Bogart's leaving made us sad
it also paved the way for TheOtherKeeperLuchie
to bring me and my Popsy together.

This is not easy because my Popsy is a bully.
And I know better than to fight one.
Of course Bogart did not know that.
When Popsy bullied Bogart for the nth time
Bogart fought Popsy like a matador
and a bull all rolled into one!
When you fight an Alpha leader dog
he will never surrender and his hurt pride
will never forget and forgive.

And when that happened years ago
Keeper had no choice but to separate us.
Keeper was heartbroken ever since.
Keeper's schedules has to revolve around us.
No whole day meetings for Keeper.
No overnight stays ANYWHERE!
No long trips ANYWHERE!
No A-N-Y-T-H-I-N-G!
Keeper has no life. Period.

But now . . .
. . . Keeper might have a life . . . again!

As long as Popsy and I were together
and not fighting . . .
exactly as Popsy said in his blog
Keeper's worry may be over!

And I can stay anywhere
including the house and bed
of my enemy!
Well, Popsy may not be an enemy
but Popsy's house was a No-No territory
. . . . until now.

I can sleep in Popsy's house . . .
. . . and he can sleep in mine.
The thing is, Popsy does not want my house.
Popsy wanted Bogart's house.
We both wanted Bogart's house
which is why Keeper has not removed it!
The hoomans can not bring themselves to remove
any of Bogart's stuff except to clean it!

And this is Bogart's resting place . . .
Bogart is laid to rest in the earth
underneath our lovely Yvon and Chicky trees.
For some mysterious reasons,
Bogart CHOSE that spot!

So now, I go . . .

. . . and go farther down . . .
. . . searching but not finding . . .

. . . and go farther to the end
and sniff that part of Heaven
where my big black brother sleeps . . .
hoping that he will get up
and play with me again . . .

And now the sky grumbled
and we had a drizzle . . .

But it is not enough
to wet the hot floors of Heaven.

There is not enough rain . . .
. . . to wash my tears away . . .

. . . and wash my solo paw prints . . .
. . . so as not to remind me
that I am now alone . . .

that even if my Popsy is still with me
I still feel alone
without my brother . . .

1 comment:

  1. Sweepy.
    Your post made me cry.
    I know how much you miss Bogart.
    He will be always in your heart.
    Kisses and hugs


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