In Which I Miss My Dog But Can't Take Her With Me On Vacation

My house is empty, save for all my stuff;

The animating spirit, she has left.

Just for a week, but that seems long enough,

I sit here at my table; I'm bereft.

My bare feet stretch out, feeling for her fur

But Molly dog is nowhere to be found.

I know she misses me as I miss her,

But has a lot of fun where she is bound.

It's Grandpa Camp! Lord, how she loves my dad

(My mother, too; her little dog less so),

His yard, his truck, and also, yes, his bad,

Bad habit, tossing scraps from dinner. No!

He tells her when she begs, and yet somehow

She gets her way. Wish she were here right now!