First Dog

This poem is about the English Springer Spaniel our family had when I was young.  She was the best companion and a terrific bird dog.

First Dog

We had a dog when I was young

who lived 

to hunt birds in the fall.

The rest of the year

she lived

to chase sparks from 

leaf-fueled backyard bonfires 

her brown and white body 

silhouetting smoky twilight.

She was our make-believe St. Bernard

who carried 

a canteen of hot chocolate

on snowy sledding days.

She carried 

first aid supplies as

we fought 

the Germans in Belleau Wood.

When we had been in trouble at school

she would greet

us  at the back door as if 

we were conquering heroes and 

after we been scolded and 

sent to our room

she would snuggle with 

us on the bed 

a warm hairy bandage 

for our wounds.

On bright mornings 

with no school

she ran with us

chasing our bicycles 

through the maze of our youth.