For Maggie

Her name was Maggie
and she loved them.
Now - suddenly - before her time -
she is gone
and they wonder how to fill the painful, gaping hole
in their hearts.

She was just a small blond puppy when she came -
excited, clumsy, eager to please.
There was a sweetness about her -
an expression in her soft brown eyes that said,
“I’m yours, and I’ll love you forever -
just help me to learn how.”
And she followed them everywhere and was always underfoot
and chewed things she wasn’t supposed to and dug holes in the yard
and tried (unsuccessfully) to make friends with skunks
and spilled things and knocked things over with her ever-wagging tail
and always looked so contrite and sad when someone scolded her
that no one could ever stay mad at her.
She loved to be outdoors - to splash and swim in the salty sea
to climb dusty mountainsides and chase away the sassy squirrels
to romp and race in winter’s clean white snow
or just to take a quiet walk around the neighborhood.
She happily greeted all who came to visit -
family, dinner guests, playmates, neighbors
business associates, service people, the UPS man -
everyone knew her, and she made them all feel like honored guests.

And so she grew, and learned her lessons well.
She was eager playmate; sympathetic comforter; gentle, helpful friend.
She was ever-present - always there.

Her name was Maggie
and she loved them. Her devotion was unquestioning.
She loved the father, loved to walk with him, and swim,
looked eagerly for his praise.
She loved the children, and followed them and their friends
wherever they would let her go.
And she seemed perhaps to love the mother most of all
responding to her every mood, following at her heels by day
and sleeping all night long on the floor beside her bed.

Now - suddenly - before her time -
she is gone.
The father says, a catch in his voice,
“There’s no Maggie to meet me now when I come home.”
The little girls sob brokenly,
“Why did God let her die?” and “Who will lick my face now when I cry?”
The mother whispers softly through a searing flood of tears,
“Who will take care of me, now that Maggie’s gone?”

The questions hang in the fragrant air.
Flowers still bloom brightly in the garden. The kitten sleeps in the sun.
The autumn breeze is silent.