1 thought on “Pal was a good dog”

  1. Mike, your poem reminds me of two pups from my childhood. One was named Rusty. I was really small and all my parents said when he disappeared was that ‘Rusty went across the street’. I was probably about 3, so I just kept saying that, thinking he crossed and would be back, but his fate was like Pal’s. Later, we had Spot, who Pal really reminded me of. Spot was also on a chain in the backyard with a doghouse. We’d let him off and he would wander and come back. He had shown up one 4th of July while my parents and I had gone to the local ball field to watch fireworks. Dad pulled in the drive, and there he was, sitting in front of the garage. I of course wanted to keep him immediately. He was filthy but such a chubby and happy boy. We did as no one came for him; we lived on a dark country road that was famous for dog abandonment. Anyway, Spot had been gone for longer than usual; on the way to school one morning, I looked out the bus window and saw a dog’s body on the side of the road, not far from home. I knew it was him right away. I told my parents when I got home and if memory serves, Dad went down there. He confirmed it was Spot and I think he buried him. I was too sad to even hear the response.

    It’s something how our four-legged family never really leave us, isn’t it? Thank you for sharing your memory.

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