Eight Months Young

Wrapped in a black plastic bag

Like so much trash

Sweet Peanut was carried to the necropsy lab

But he was not trash

He was tender hearted

And loved to be loved

He pressed his knobby forehead into my palm

And delighted in a rough and tumbly rub

My knotty knuckles rattling across his poled knobs

As long as I pet him he stayed

Death came too soon but his sweet soul will be remembered

I only wish I pet him longer

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