My Last Dog

I wake to his cold moist nose

touching my arm.  Without words

with only that one touch I am touched

inside, touched profoundly, and I know

I’m needed.  I am loved.  My dog needs

to pee and he has learned not to pee

inside the house.  His need is a fundamental

need, it is a real need, but it is need permeated

with respect.  The truth is, I’ve never felt

more needed, more respected, I have never

felt this level of adoration.  At my age, this

may be my last dog.  This dog has a good chance

to outlive me.  It would be accurate to say

I saved the very best, for my last.