When all the world was whippets,
everything I ever wanted was there
in the depths of their dark eyes.
Liquid pools of quiet acceptance,
grave awareness and, a wink.
They were whippets after all.
Silly whippersnappers. Alert.
Easy; such easy keepers.
Leash walking always a graceful waltz.
Didn’t I know it?
Felix: my silly cherub.
Josephine: should have been a mama.
Like nothing else I’d ever had in a dog.
My sweet Josephine got her wings this morning. She died at home, in the kitchen, while Alex and I were getting breakfast for Tessa and Gracie.