the personal views, thoughts, and musings of donna d'errico

Wednesday, February 10, 2010


(Here is a poem I wrote a few of years ago when Bone passed away. That's her in the picture with me. I hope you enjoy it.)


With Spring in the air and my boy at my side,
in search of a dog we went for a ride
to the animal shelter..the "pound", if you will.
It wasn't that far--just over the hill.

He took his time looking, for he said he'd know
the right dog when he saw it, and then we could go.
But he didn't find one that he thought was quite right.
And so we decided to call it a night.

Just then Rhyan's eyes lit up like a light,
"How about that dog over there--she's just right!"
There was an old dog being taken away.
He said he'd like to see her, if it was okay.

He went over to her and she wagged her bobbed tail.
He could see she was old, and a little bit frail.
"She needs me," he said, "and her eyes are so kind.
I'd like to have her, if you don't mind"

It was then that I realized where she'd been being led.
I looked at the worker and she nodded her head.
"Well it looks like today is her lucky day."
She handed Rhyan the leash and sent us on our way.

Bone loved her new home--lots of kids, land, and love.
And we loved her, too, like a gift from above.
Whenever we would walk out on our property
Bone walked out in front, her mind on safety.

She always watched over the kids like a mom
with a sense for the things to protect them from.
Her eyes were not sharp, and her hearing was bad
but a keener sense of smell was not to be had.

You always knew when Bone was around
'cause her nails on the floor made a clicking sound.
You knew she was coming down the hall for a drink
(or sometimes for a snack, which were kept by the sink.)

We always felt safe with old Bone around,
and no gentler dog could ever be found.
She was there to watch all my kids grow
but as they got bigger, our Bone got more slow.

We'd go out for our walks, but she would not go.
She preferred now to sleep on her soft pillow.
But no matter how tired or how weak she felt
that bobbed tail would wag, and our hearts she would melt.

At first it was tremors, then seizures came.
Bone no longer could bark, but she still knew her name.
Toes still clicked down the hall when she wanted a snack
which we knew she loved, so we never held back.

She slept more and more. She could see less and less.
She had accidents now, but we'd clean up her mess
with a tear, for we knew the day neared
that we'd be without her. The day that we feared.

The shelter had told us that they didn't know
but that she must have been about twelve years or so
when we got her. So if that was true,
then Bone was now eighteen and her days left were few.

We got her some pills that could make her last days
more comfortable, and in less of a haze.
Every day after school Rhyan would go to her
and lay with her awhile, gently stroking her fur.

I think she must have, quite deliberately,
waited until Rhyan was not home to see
her draw her last breath, then peacefully go
as she lay sleeping on her favorite pillow.

We buried her here where she loved to run
and play with the children out in the warm sun.
I can still see her there, keeping her watchful eye
on the children she loved from up there in the sky.

I've found it so hard to let go of her
the sound of her toes, the smell of her fur.
Oh, what I would give to see her again .
Goodbye, Bone. We miss you. Sleep well in heaven.


  1. That's beautiful, Donna. So heartfelt.

  2. What a wonderful poem Donna. You are very well spoken. It sent chills down my spine.

  3. Very nice. Bone was a good dog and the poem was a joy to read. All your dogs have been very good, and the ones you have now are excellent.


  4. very very nice Donna!!:)'s really wonderful to me to get to know you a bit better!!!!'re so special, sweet, honest and with a huge caring heart!!!!..thanks for sharing all these experiences and emotions with us!!:)..

  5. Donna...I met you some years ago back in the rock and roll days. It's funny how we both seemed to have drift away from that scene and drawn closer to the only 'Rock' that truly matters, Jesus Christ.
    I read your poem and cried. My only children are my pooches. Peanut is now 12. She's slowing and there's white hair where she was once all brown. I can't even think of when she passes on. And I DO believe there is a special place in heaven for pets. They are so noble, loving, forgiving and non-judgemental.
    God bless you, Donna. You are a beautiful soul.
    Becky, the once Pea.

  6. what a beautiful poem, Donna. thank you for sharing your special gift.

  7. Reminds me of my cat, Josemaines, who was born in our house and whom we had for 17 years and 7 months (1975 to 1992) before he died... I still have dreams sometimes that Jo is alive, or has come back for awhile...
    Very nice poem. Most powerful poems are very nice to read. They contain the original intended energy, years later...