In memory of our dearest dog, Muffin.

You woofed your way

into our plebeian hearts

and left a blondish trail

wherever your nose led you.

Mr Carrot had it in for you

for biting his head off;

Mr Ant was afraid

after you shut him up.

And now, you lay hushed

below trees that you played with;

and house corners wait patiently,

– in futile –

for your bouncing company.

I cling onto your long sigh of goodbye,

your soft exit.

No flowers for dead muffins, no remembrances.

Doggy sticks would do you just fine.

You always liked to plead and whine for them,

and we loved it.

And we loved you.

And we do.