By Martin Falatic
What is it about dogs?
They aren’t savvy about romance,
They don’t comprehend the loss of fortune or fame,
For what are these things to them?
Yet they come to you when you cry,
Sensing the discord and heartache,
Licking the bitter salt-tears from your cheeks,
They are earnest in their need to comfort you.
They don’t know the language,
They don’t know your mind,
For all its abstract and wondrous depth,
Yet they read you as if you were a child’s book,
Plain and simple, without adornment.
They forgive you,
They trust you,
They protect you,
They mourn you,
And they don’t forget you when you’ve gone,
Be it for a day, or for ever.
What is it about dogs,
Bonded to us, their keepers,
In a way more fundamental than love?
Who knows, precisely? But just the same,
Appreciate them for sharing their time with you.