Old Faithful
By M. Anne Avera
The dog woke me up at midnight
by pawing with rough feet, by
howling and nosing at me until
the sleep stretches out of my eyes,
leaving ringed finger marks around
my lips, my sagging sallow neck.
This creature needs so much from me—
special food that smells like a barn,
shots and pills and daily walks
because he will pee in the house
and be so, so, ashamed with himself
that my heart splits in two pieces.
He needs—most of all—to know
that he is not the only one awake
at night, deep and dark. Cicadas scream
in the light of the porch. I’m leading
him out on his old leash, faded red,
and the stars catch his eyes’ clouds.
I do what I can for him, because
he has been everything for me
for fourteen years straight. For him,
I play soft music at night to soothe
the restless ache in his paws, the memories
of trails we’d run, paths we’d climb.
The universe will come to clip
the leather leash onto his collar.
It’s still blood red, still the brightest
color the pet store had. Then, he will
walk like he used to, spring in his step,
to go home.
For now, I will stay awake with him.
M. Anne Avera is a writer and teacher from Auburn, Alabama. Her work can be found on her website writeranneavera.substack.com.
