February

The red on my sleeve

As we watched them all leave

Caused me little alarm

After all, in the scuffle

And the fur-and-fang shuffle

You had landed some bites on my arm

But the crimson-on-white

Gave me such a fright

As I watched it just drip-drip-drip

And panic took hold

As I searched high and low

For a puncture, a cut, a rip

When it couldn't be found

Searching twice all around

I realized the wound was internal

And we scrambled to leave

To get you some reprieve

Swallowing rage infernal

When the doc gave the news

That your tail, you would lose

You simply stared down at the floor

My four legged friend

After 8 years on the sled

Wouldn't be leaving here whole

10 months have passed

Since the vet shaved your ass

And snipped away your bushy appendage

And the day's yet to come

That I free myself from

The day's consequences never intended

While it doesn't seem to be missed

I would be remiss

If I didn't notice the bugs on your nose

Or how you used to curl up

An all-sealed up little pup

But now your face looks a-froze

I'm sorry, old friend

For how that day had to end

And that words make my actions no righter

But, if nothing else can be said

About your nub-laden back end

At least you're a pound or so lighter.