Current Issue 2026

Loyal to a fault
on the carpet with the kids,
who are tickling and laughing,
too young to be self-conscious.

Once the children grew older
and left home,
their absence weighed on her

                      like an empty leash hanging on a wall.

She stood by the window and gazed
at the light shifting on the pavement,
listening to the rhythmic hum of cars passing.

Waiting for their return, 

for the front door to creak, 

and to welcome them with a wagging tail, 

hoping
for a pat and a good word.

She sensed their needs before they did,
and would rush to them eagerly,
offering her reassuring presence,
easing away troubles they didn’t know they had, 

one lick at a time. 

Her loyalty lasted longer than
the children’s attention span or patience.

Taken for granted by her family,
knowing she would be waiting
with those big, brown, approving eyes,
assuring them of her
trustworthiness.

Then, when she was no longer,
everybody wondered.
“How come we didn’t know?
How come she didn’t ask for help?”
But she did.
                      Quietly,
placing her head on shoulders,
not wanting to burden her pack.