In our garden there’s a place
Where bare earth mounds rise,
Woven fence around this space,
Keeps safe what we eulogize.

Tranquility shadows hallowed ground,
Sweet Jessie from us now gone.
Today Lizzie — sleeping so sound,
Rests under dirt and stone.

Through the years — near a score —
Little friends have been so valiant,
Enriching lives, this fabulous four,
Spirits: effervescent — salient.

We smiled at Jessie’s tenacity,
Spinning about or tugging a rope,
She had “never quit” pugnacity,
Catch squirrel — her fondest hope.

Lizzie was thoughtful narrating teller
Of “Russells In The Leaves” story,
Parents and her brother, a heller,
In frenzy of excursion glory.

Half quartet waits breathless,
Interred in patient Mother Earth,
The girls we found, not deathless,
Stilled, despite their worth.

The boys, sentient remain,
Continuing their lives a while,
Still frisking through domain
Of their sylvan domicile.

But their ranks are thinning,
As terriers go to ground —
One by one, they’re winning
A pet cemetery mound.

October 29, 2007

R. Leland Waldrip