Harley

I woke up in a winter fog
to sobbing girls and a dying dog
poor bull had ate a pair of tights
vet said at best he had two more nights
and staggering neatly out of bed
I bent and kissed his knobby head
his marble eyes fraught with a muted pain
I carried with me 'til I caught the train
not my best friend but he'd known my smell
and my measured ways as far as I could tell
and by noon they’d brought him into town
his farewell tour, his final round
still cool outside the skies now parted
so flashed the sun before a steady rain started
and later finally nestled back at home
it hit me I'd need a dog of my own