When the Dogs Bite: 16th August 2025

shed floor

a carpet of beech nuts

and mouse shit

My little Moose's heart gave out one day

and left him lying dead within my arms

and though he had a life of love and play

I could not keep him safe from ages' harms.

I like to think his spirit lingered near

and looked with kindness on the care I gave

but left us swiftly once the time came near

to be laid in his apple tree-root grave.

And if Saint Peter, at that pearly gate,

denied him entry, as per Christian lore

I believe that he'd have found a kinder fate

at Jasfoup's open, welcoming front door.

And now with inner voice reduced to sobs

I'll distract myself with other garden jobs.

When the Dogs Bite