Wandering down the long, winding and devious road of grief and nihilism
Remembering her soft coat, it’s smell, her long ears and muzzle
Her pronounced knowledge bump and, of necessity, cropped tail
The faint traces of black on her fawn chest
She was supposed to be black
But as with most things, she broke the mould

This giant of a dog, this giant spirit now reduced to dust and ashes
This monument to canine love and gentleness completely destroyed
A small wicker basket, with her name, is all that she needs
Tears ooze, throat closes, words of consolation fail
This great friend has gone; no more leaning on thighs, no more noisy dreams
No more teasing, bunching loose skin, folding ears, gently punching sides and most of all no more kissing and pressing of face against her neck

Thank you Emma for the wonderful life you shared so generously