11/06/2026
Marley isn’t very well. He's hurt his leg and the stress of being sedated has given him an upset stomach. He has kidney disease.
He is 12.5.
I wrote this. My way of processing.
Marley was an idiot,
In mud and poo he'd roll,
He'd jump on tables, steal some food,
Then head right back for more.
He chased the birds, the rabbits too,
And every passing cat,
He didn't trust the men he'd meet
Who happened to wear hats.
He'd jump in ponds and lose his ball,
Then search there every day,
Until one time he found it...
Or a dead rat on the way.
His bed was by the front door,
Where he stood guard with pride,
Though if someone came with a key,
He'd find a place to hide.
When I was home he'd bark and bark
At every little sound,
Convinced that danger lurked somewhere
Though none was ever found.
But now he's old and slower,
His racing days have passed,
He mostly sleeps and sniffs around,
Then heads to bed at last.
His hearing's fading bit by bit,
His eyes are turning grey,
And chasing after tennis balls
Just wears him out these days.
He's hesitant to jump in vans,
Falls behind on every walk,
So now we wander slowly,
Stopping often just to stalk
The scents on every lamppost,
Each blade of grass and tree,
Taking in the world he loved
For all these years with me.
His energy could drive me mad,
And test me to the core,
But if I'm honest, that's the thing
I find myself missing more.
This old boy now finds comfort
In somewhere soft and warm,
His days are slow and gentle,
Far away from every storm.
All I can do is love him,
And help him up every hill,
Give him treats, and give him pills,
And just cherish him still.
For one day I'll have to say goodbye,
Though I wish that day weren't so,
Until then I'll stay beside him,
Until it's his time to go.
