in the eleventh grade my spanish
teacher made us read a poem by
pablo neruda about his dead
dog and i could not have cared
less but now i find myself contemplating my
furry companion’s inevitable
end sure that when that day
arrives i’ll seek solace in mr. neruda’s
perfect verse:

Some day I’ll join him right there,
but now he’s gone with his shaggy coat,
his bad manners and his cold nose,
and I, the materialist, who never believed
in any promised heaven in the sky
for any human being,
I believe in a heaven I’ll never enter.
Yes, I believe in a heaven for all dogdom
where my dog waits for my arrival
waving his fan-like tail in friendship.

and i’ll probably stay home for days.