The enlivened stardust

called Otis these past twelve years

has been returned to the earth.

We knew it was coming.

Thought it still yet days away,

but the night just past

harder than any soul

should have to bear,

so we made the needful trip

to the doctor of animals

with her longed-for

syringe of compassionate end

we wished we didn’t need.

This is the thing about animal love,

by which I mean any kind of love:

It is laced with boundedness,

infused with inevitable grief,

it is, like the whole world, mortal.