I stroke the curly fresh bathed fur of my dog

The smell of her sweet strawberry shampoo
Tingles me with a new excitement
Her little pink tongue barely reaches out
Just enough to tickle my skin

Her heart beating on my cheek
With a consistent thump
Her pulse vibrating in my ears
It was so loud, it sounded as if it were going to pop

Her eyes remind me of our old barn door
Flecks of dark brown put with lighter hues
So much strength between them despite the harsh weathering

As I lye on her with tears trickling slowly
Her curls now black and sitting in distress
It was a poison to her spirit