Arthritis
If at night I stray in thought,
dreaming of nimble fingers
and my departed dogβs walk,
will you smile
when I scratch his absent ear
and apologize for the times
I failed him? Even combined,
all the words in these unread books
could never soothe the guilt
of leisure and complacency, nor
match the joy of jumping
for the kicked ball, no matter the
outcome, despite the consequences.
O at the Edges 
Reminds me of the constant apologies and regret of the chronically ill.
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Hmm. I hadn’t considered that, but I like your reading. π
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Perfect poem. Simple, poignant. And using chronic pain as sentimentality…. very creative.
Now if we can only survive the moral arthritis soon to be overtaking the White House by the incoming kakistocracy…
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Thanks, Daniel. Chronic pain, chronic regret… We’ll survive, but not without some worries.
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Arthritis is survivable… a post-factual world… maybe not so much… the ability to shout lies over someone telling the truth seems to be considered ‘fact’ these days in America. BUT like Bill Clinton said.” there is nothing wrong with America that can’t be fixed by what is right with America”, and I truly believe that.
And there is no arthritis pain that can’t be at least temporarily fixed by a loving snuggle in a hot bath with your significant other…. ♥
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Laughter, too, eases the way!
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Wonderful – resonant!
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Thank you, Jazz.
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Very affecting this^^^. I feel like the speaker’s and the dog’s destiny, if you will, are deftly blurred. Those ‘Chicken Soup’ books are looking for dog stories right now, Bob. I wish they’d accept poems, because this and the one about Jackboy (looked it up: Jackboy’s Pride) would be perfect, but they don’t. To my knowledge…
Anyway, hope you are feeling well (or at least better) this week, arthritis & etc. notwithstanding!
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Thanks, Leigh. I’m feeling much better – had a little set back a few days ago, but have improved enough to look forward to going to work tomorrow.
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Okay, but no heavy lifting…unless it’s the hoisting of words! Ha!
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Nothing heavier than a file folder or cup of coffee!
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No heavy electric guitars or amps either! π Enjoy the coffee!
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Those are long gone. Just the light acoustic. π
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A Washburn acoustic, a cup of genmaicha, and someone to play to is all you need!
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Mine’s an Eko acoustic, bought in Italy in 1976. Like me, it’s a bit worn but still serviceable.
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A lovely poem that managed to touch me even though I’m not sure I understand it. As you say, the guilt I feel for failing him, all of them really. Thank you.
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Thank you, Steven.
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Animal grief is very real and very painful, and can manifest physically, intensifying painful conditions such as arthritis.
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Oh, yes, Alan.
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“…the joy of jumping for the kicked ball” — well, of both the kicking of and the jumping for it — is something at least one arthritic old non-canid I know must also try to negotiate an existence without. Loss, any way you look at it, never gets refilled with something else, but maybe we can keep hoping for some good old-fashioned distractions to carry us along?
Thanks for the commiseration…
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I am in dire need of a healthy distraction!
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I will let you know if think anything. But I can’t guarantee the degree to which it’ll be healthy, or distracting, for that matter… π
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I’m flexible. Well, sort of…
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There’s no “death by pun” emoticon… Lol!
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Feeling this one in my bones, Bob. π
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As am I today, Cate!
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I definitely relate to this one, Bob, especially in my fingers, a gift from my mother’s aunt. π
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Knees and hands for me. Ouch.
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I’m reading this in the evening, and will read it again in the morning when my bones remind me. Wonderful!
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Let’s hope for a gentle reminder!
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Works on a lot of levels for me – the most immediate being the arthritic fingers…
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Oh, those fingers!
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Beautiful poem ,very poignant and made me think
~SS
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Thank you, SS.
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If I had a dog to love again, I might give up blogging. I almost cried, but love this poem and the deep feelings it shows.
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I can’t imagine life without dogs. Such joys to behold!
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Oh… This was very good. Thanks. I hate feeling like I’ve failed my dog too… amongst other things…
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Thank you. That is a horrible feeling, isn’t it?
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