Stephen Cahill Furlong (23 August 1992 / Holles Street, Dublin, Republic of Ireland)
I feared this day would come.
The reality of my feelings
Could only be felt by some.
I was afraid, walking through the door.
Daddy was there too, waiting for me;
An agonising pain sight was there for me to see.
There he laid, my best friend.
His ginger and white shredding apart,
Confirming by action his days were at an end.
I didn't want to lose him; I couldn't bear to let him go.
It saddens me to realise that Death cannot take a no.
But then her needle came, and his time was up.
Poor old Max. He was such a good pup.
While a tear rolled down my cheek,
A bright light of fetching games
Was what I'd hoped my dog would seek.
Daddy was sad. I was sad. All of the family sad.
There was no stopping the needle pumping the vein.
The lad was gone forever, which was just too bad.
For six long years, our friendship lasted an eternity.
Mammy liked to describe us
As a back-garden fraternity.
He was always there when I needed him,
He would never show disrespect.
But when we'd sit in bed together,
Like brothers, we'd connect.
Not until the thirteenth day of the eighth month
Did we exchange warmth with our last and longest embrace.
Max had never looked so poorly; I could tell by his melting face.
He had received that internal illness because of old age,
And from the moment we watched him close those eyes,
I knew right then and there that sadly
Our physical bond had forever reached the end of its stage.
Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Goodbye Max by Stephen Cahill Furlong )
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