The Life Of An Orange Dog

An orange dog rested by our house,

All year he did was louse,

He had no permanent residence,

Moved from place to place without hesitance,

However, once he found a source of food,

He changed his mood.

He warmed up his heart

Gave our old weary heart a restart,

Intelligent and Disciplined,

Wise, Kind and Lovable,

He displayed the aforesaid traits,

Not a single soul he hates.

Ever since the age of one

His wagging tail spun,

In an excited manner as he waits

At the entrance of our house’s open gates,

He was always welcomed to stay inside the protective gates,

Yet he put a strong resistance with a silent debate.

Every night, he would wait meticulously,

And eat the food presented to him voraciously,

Before eating, he would look at me in the eye

Through which a ‘thank you’ was relayed.

He would make sure to see the gates locked,

before making arrangements for his night spot.

This pattern continued for six years

Until as still as a statue he appears,

At the doorsteps of a neighbour

Death took him away and his cadaver was disposed

Before any of us had the chance to interpose.

Without a funeral, Without a goodbye,

His soul placidly flew high in the sky,

Only thing left back were reminiscences,

And the disconcerting feeling of disappearance

The feeling of this change was acknowledged not

and no other could ever conquer his spot.