To her to serve was to live.
Not just to me but to anyone who was there when I was not.
Love! If love is unending adoration. It was there.
If love is thankfulness for what was small but was to her everything. It was that.
If love is to talk with your eyes, to scent the travels of your day. Love it was.
If love is not to speak but sense your day, then mend it with a thoughtful stroll. It was love.
If love is to watch over all and to call with alarm. It was there.
If love is a bonding to you and what's yours. It was that.
If love is a twist of the head in curiosity at uncertainty. Love it was.
If love is the greeting of a merry dance. It was love.
So the love had grown. So too had the mass within her.
If love is not to tell but mask the pain of command and task. It was there.
If love is not to ask yet you know after a decade that its time. That it was.
With adoration in her eyes and still without question, she took the mans needle.
The command now useless this love was limp in my arms.
It was I "Judas" who sent her home.
Is this pain love? or is love pain?
This was my dog and we all were her life!
