Willing the crisps to leap into a stomach always hollow;
Crumbs fall and lie forgotten on the floor.
No circling round me as I stand, lead in my hand, at the front door.
No barking at the tiny horses on the TV screen,
Or at a call of "Squirrels!". No more of that daft, delightful scene.
No more T-Rex impersonations, trying to snatch a bone,
No more chasing around from room to room around your home.
No more paws crossed so dainty as she lay
There, quiet, calm and dignified, waiting for snacks, the Kore Tax we'd pay.
I washed her bowls today, put them away;
No more food, no more water and no more, no more, no more to say.
But still, a million hairs on all the curtains, carpets, clothes --
A million memories that mean she's always close.