It came Six months short
Of when the vet said she’d live
sixteen year old Lucy
fell down fourteen stairs.

The fall brought to a close
what had been months of despair.
“Don’t let her jump!”
“Carry her, please, to her chair.”

Gone was the worry, now,
just like the bear
that she chastened away,
without worry or care

Or the fisher rebuked,
the red fox in its den,
the legion of deer,
who won’t tempt her again.

Don’t cry for Lucy.
She had the best life.
The best life of any dog.
Of any of us, a life.