You fur was not that soft,
And it was not arranged in
Speckles nor spots.
On the contrary,
Your fur was oily
And a bit course.
A solid slab of grey fur.

But you were always the prettiest dog, Gracie.

When Ma was walking you
Down to the beach and back,
Strangers would stop and stare
And ask and say:
‘Is she gonna have puppies?’
‘She’d be a great momma,’
‘She’s beautiful.’

You never had puppies, Grace, but you were always so sweet.

You had a hunting side, too.
Remember when the ducks came,
And you chased them away playfully?
No lizard in our backyard was safe,
And Great Blue Herons went screeching away
But you also liked Bufo toads-
But Bufo toads didn’t like you.

Momma and Pops found you with a toad in your mouth, Gracie. They tried to get the toxins out.

You felt lethargic.
Apathetic, too.
You didn’t eat as fast,
And you didn’t want any water.
You lost ten pounds at first
Then you wouldn’t get up.
You were only six years old.

Your kidneys were failing. You were supposed to live for six more years.

So we wrapped you up in a blanket,
Treated you with a extra love,
Let you sleep on the couch
(and sleep in my bed),
Then that Tuesday morning,
We took you to the vet.
You still wagged your tail, though.

We hugged you during the process and told you we love you- and we do love you, Gracie.

Momma put your head in her lap,
I petted you through the entire thing,
Dad said ‘Good girl, Gracie’
And we all said ‘We love you,’
When everything was over,
You were gone.
You looked like you were sleeping peacefully.

We miss you, we wish you were here. We love you, Gracie girl.