My precious memory of holding
Quinn, slimy and squirming
Mewling his tiny cries of hunger
From his adorable trust
With eyes welded shut to his
First glances at a big strange world
He held my heart in a grip
His tiny razor teeth relentless
Gnawing on fingers and treasures
His first unsteady steps
Yips and yaps with a silly smile
Siberian Husky puppies
Are the crack cocaine of canines
Weaving a sorcery, trapping your heart
His goofy adolescence powered
By a resistance to obey
Undeniable and hard to argue
Sitting for two seconds on command
The hard years came too soon for him
New knees and a long recovery
Deaths, his daddy-alpha, Mukki
Followed by his sweetheart, my bestie, Tala
Arthritis in his new joints made him cry
His mother Lulu became sweetness in senility
Forgetting the early years of trauma
And bonding with her rescuers at the end.
She was ready and I held her in my lap
Quinn sat near with his back touching her
He gave her a final look when we left
We grieved her together, he missed her more
A welcome baby human filled his void
He became her protector and she tortured
Him with love kisses and body slams
I had long talks with him these last few months
Arguing both sides of letting him go as he listened
In a narcotic haze, he wagged his tail and whined
I held him, head in my lap, and cried
He was calm and seemed to welcome
The first injection, a pinch then no pain
He devoured the forbidden chocolate and bacon
I did not feel him leave like I had the others
I could not stop crying and missed the moment
I felt like I’d lost a child, I’d kept him in pain too long
To spare myself this pain. My baby was a very old man.
How I miss him. I cry for all my losses,
both human and canine hold places in my memory
But Quinn holds my heart hostage and
The lessening grip makes me cry more.
My Mad Siberian Gulag 