I can still feel her presence, watching over me.
Even though we buried her, beside the ol' pine trees.
She may have not been the prettiest, or even the best in show.
But she was always the most amazing, as far as dogs go.
She got ran over once, the first time she ever left the yard.
Going through this awful time was especially hard.
They said she wouldn't make it. They said she was too old.
But I knew that she could. She had a heart of gold.
Weeks later, she came back to our home.
The same as she had always been, and she inspired this poem.
She started having seizures. About once a day.
She'd shake and shake, until they would finally go away.
At 6 a.m one wintery day, in the background the honking of geese.
She had a seizure, that seemed like it would never ever cease.
I bawled and bawled and couldn't stop.
All day my stomach seemed to flop.
She was a boxer, brindle not fawn.
As far we knew, she was never gone.
She's always in our hearts. Of course she'll stay in mine.
But I guess God decided it was Cleo's time.
I still have her squeaky toy, making me think of her brings me tears.
Which still sits in the corner of my room, even though it's almost been two years.