Like any boy
I wanted a Dog
But my father’s answer to all things was
“You are too young”
One day someone heard my pleas
Brought a mongrel street dog he had found
My father objected
However that man
My mother
Me
Won over
And he let me have him
My God I loved that mongrel
There was not a moment we were not together

We lived in Puerto Rico
A block from the seashore
I would take him to the beach
And we would run together
Chasing driftwood, shells,
Sniffing sea weed or
Turds left by midnight drunks
Next to bottles of Bacardi Rum
We breathed the ocean air
The warm sun on our backs
There was no better friend

One morning before breakfast
I took him for his morning poo and pee
We ran together up the block
Then at the boulevard he looked both ways
Saw no cars and crossed
Then waited for me on the curb
This dog had street smarts
I saw a car approaching and waited
The car went up on the curb and hit him
I screamed out
The driver sporting sadistic grin
Turned to me and realized
The dog was mine
Drove on with a slightly guilty pallor

I reached my dog still alive
Whimpering blood from nostrils and mouth
I held him and he died
I picked him up and carried him home
I was sure someone could fix him
My father said it was my fault
He should not have been off the leash
I suppose he is right
But it is too late
And he is dead

I never had another dog
I always being
too young.

Wilson Hill