I don’t often write poems, but some mornings, the words find me.
This morning, I sat next to Surley. I was sipping my coffee and preparing to table at the Can Do Canines open house. A familiar ache settled in. I glanced up at the picture of Dempsey.
There he was, sitting on the dock. His deep, soulful eyes stared into my very soul. I realized he remains a ghost. He will forever haunt me. He lingers in the quiet moments of my day.
Surley and Dempsey share so much: their wiggle butts, their playful spirits, the way their eyes hold entire stories. And yet, they are so different—one chocolate, the other yellow, each with a unique heartbeat. I needed to put these feelings somewhere, to capture the love and the loss, the comfort and the haunting.
So, I wrote this poem.
A Ghost in the Wiggles
You are chocolate; he is yellow—
But you are both dogs
With shockingly similar eyes,
Though so different.
Yours, a deep golden amber,
His, a rich, soulful chocolate.
When he looks at me,
I see you in the shadows of his gaze.
I love you.
I love him.
You craved morning belly rubs,
A ritual of joy.
He only offers his belly
Because he knows it brings me closer to you—
A bridge to the boy I lost too soon.
I love you.
I love him.
I look at him, and I see you.
I know he is not you—
He is his own dog,
But still, I see you.
Your silly face, your wiggle butt.
I see you when he zooms around the house
After a long day’s work,
When he rests his head on my lap,
Looking up at me.
I love you.
I love him.
He is here, and you are not.
You are a ghost,
Haunting the corners of my mind,
An invisible chain,
Forged by how you left so abruptly,
Binding me to you,
Never letting go.
I love you.
I love him.
Will your ghost haunt me forever?
Even with him here,
The heartache lingers,
Popping up in the most unexpected,
Unusual ways.
I love you.
I love him.
You are gone.
He is here.
You both have that same wiggle butt,
But unlike you,
He must always have something in his mouth—
As if the comfort of a toy or a bone
Keeps him steady,
Helps him reach your confident stride.
I love you.
I love him.
You were bold, hard-headed,
Needed a firmer hand,
Met the world with unflinching eyes.
He is squishy, tender,
A softer heartbeat in this home.
Crumpling at the slightest hint of an upset dad,
Looking up for reassurance,
Needing to know he’s doing it right.
I love you.
I love him.
When I first got upset with him,
I thought I broke him.
I thought we weren’t meant to be,
Because he shut down,
So unlike you—
You, who always pushed back,
Certain, strong, sure.
He is not you.
But in his own way,
He is exactly who he needs to be.
I love you.
I love him.
Through him and around him,
Your spirit still dances—
A ghost in the wiggle.
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