While Walking My Dog’s Ghost
I spot a baby rabbit
lying still in a clump of grass
no wider than my hand.
It quivers, but I pretend
not to have seen, for fear
that the dog, ghost or not,
will frighten and chase it
into the brush, beyond
its mother’s range,
perhaps to become lost
and thirsty, malnourished,
filthy, desperate, much
like the dog when we
found each other that hot,
dry evening so long ago.
This first appeared here in September 2016.
O at the Edges 
FANTASTIC
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Thanks very much, Rob.
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The ghost of my dog follows me everywhere
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Jackboy keeps making appearances in poems. He’s still with me!
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This is my favorite poem of yours. Every time I read it I love it anew.
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Thank you, Alison! Oh, that dog! How I miss him.
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So tender!
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Thank you, Lynne. Those dogs!
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😭😭😭❤️
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Thank you!
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A heartwarming story Robert … My doggie Frankie is a rescue dog, he is 5 years old and I’ve had 5 months ..
https://1drv.ms/u/s!Asumt4cZ9A65hO1b9OHic0KmhjIrnA?e=htyunX
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Oh, those dogs!
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On a darker note. A rabbit, at least a domestic one, upon encountering an enthusiastic dog, end up in a state of unrecoverable trauma that is lethal. The rabbit might not survive. It is sad, but this can happen. The goodness of protecting the vulnerable is very powerful in this poem.
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My dog had a very strong prey-drive, which did not work out well for him is his one encounter with a porcupine.
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Great post
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