My Lasting Minutes

A poem for every dog who became more human than beast.

He never spoke the way we do,
But his eyes could sing a truth so true.
He wagged his tail in honest grace,
And in his silence, found my face.

His paws grew old, his step grew slow,
Yet every stride still let love show.
He never cared for gold or pride—
Just for the warmth I held inside.

He waited long when I was gone,
His nose on my shirt, his back withdrawn.
He held no grudge for passing years—
He simply kept me close through tears.

And when the winter filled his gaze,
He knew he’d walked his final days.
But still, he searched for me once more,
My hand his anchor to the shore.

His breath grew short, his body weak,
But in his soul, no fear did speak.
He left in peace, without regret—
An old mate… whose love stays yet.