Good Dog Benji

Photo by Stephan Louis on Unsplash

At the end of the path, they paused.

The dog stood, front legs planted underneath his broad chest.

The man crouched down and gathered the dog in his arms.

Walked heavily, carefully, a few steps

while the dog let his tongue hang

brushing against the man's forearm.

A rush of grief blew before them.

It made me shiver where I sat on the park bench.

The man put down the dog,

who shook his head and quivered

(in that way that dogs do)

started walking down the path -- bouncing and slow.

"His name is Benji," said the man.

"Would you like to say hello?"

Benji pushed his gray snout under my hand,

rubbed a heavy shoulder against my leg

before he wandered off into a patch of rain-wet grass.

"People are afraid of dogs like him.

They don't understand.

He's a sweetheart.

I rescued him when he was nine years old.

He's been nine years old for five years now."

The man stood at Benji's shoulder,

"I lost two dogs in one year,"

the man's brown eyes darkened.

The rush of grief engulfed and embraced him,

"I though I was going to lose Benji too--

but he made it."

“Our Daily Breath” comes to you every Wednesday-Sunday, with a touch of something nearly formed, in the hopes that it sparks something new and tender in your day. Won’t you share this breath of air with a friend?