Not a hunting breed,
he nosed the carpet bolt behind the boxes.
A lifted edge–a flash of fur–
but Hugo was faster.
One brutal shake. and the hedgehog pup was still,
suddenly,
a shapeless tribute at my feet.
I grieve the animal’s life.
I grieve this hard lesson in attachment,
this gift, this mortal meditation on loss.
I grieve the generosity of this
good dog.
