Diana Darby ** "I V" ** Intravenous

Oh C.C.

I miss my dog.
I miss the way I was when I was with him.
I miss saying, “Oh, C.C.”
when I saw a squirrel in the backyard
in a voice that I knew
would make him come screaming down the hall
frantic to get out the back door.
I miss being silly with him
and chasing him around corners
and throwing tennis balls down the hall for him until we were both exhausted.
I miss taking time to play.
I don’t know how to play without him.
All I know how to do is work
and berate myself for not writing.
I have no one to play with now.
I want to go on long walks but he isn’t there to walk with me
and I have forgotten how to walk alone.
I want to come home and hug him and tell him about the asshole in the parking lot
but he isn’t there when I walk in.
I want to curl up with him on his bed and listen to him breathe while he sucks his bed
but the floor is bare.
I want to cut up radishes and watch him stand right under me
hoping that I will drop one.
Now when I drop a radish it lays on the floor until I pick it up and throw it in the trash.
I want to pop a big bowl of popcorn and toss him kernels and marvel at how he catches each one.
I haven’t made popcorn since he died.