i don’t know why i've always hated
poems about old dogs i'm not sure
if it’s because of the cheap emotions
or if it’s just because the dog
always dies in the end
but my old dog just died
and those emotions just don’t seem
all that cheap to me anymore

she was a golden retriever not quite ten
and though her face had grayed and her
health had been fading for the last year
it was still a shock to find her there
when we went to let her out
before leaving to go to dinner

she was sweet lucy gray
named for wordsworth’s tragic heroine
and she was better than your dog
and even though everyone says that about
their own dog everyone else is wrong

she was sweet lucy gray
loved very much by a little girl
who gathered up her dog's favorite
toys to take to her new home
of endless golden meadows
filled with tennis balls and joy

she was sweet lucy gray
the best friend of a little boy
who lost a bit of his boyhood today
trading it for a mass of manhood
helping his father dig her grave
fighting through the tears and blisters
for a final act of tribute and of love