A hound-raising tale of a rabid dog returning to it's master.

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Rising up from the ground was a hound he had buried;

a dog in dense fog who’d been long cemeteried.

His wife’s pup, gone rabid, was shot and then carried—

placed next to his wife one year after they married.

Each night he heard howling across the dark moor;

Each night it was louder than even before.

Each night he paced faster across the dirt floor

as the sound of that demon tore deep to his core.

The pup was his gift in return for her “Yes”

since his means couldn’t offer a ring or a dress.

She loved it as dearly as he loved each tress

of her hair which he’d dare, heart-in-hand, to caress.

Not scared of a gun when he’d run through the trees,

learning early to have as much fun as he’d please

on the hunt, never mind all the ticks and the fleas,

unaware of the threat of some dreadful disease.

At first, he chased chipmunks and squirrels every day,

then rabbits and hares, but they all got away.

It didn’t take long to discover skunk’s spray

but a vicious racoon proved his deadliest prey.

Barely limping back home, much the worse for his wear,

for a month wouldn’t roam but just lie there and stare.

They knew he was terrified; something out there

had sheared open his flesh like the maw of a bear.

She picked him up gently, surprised at his yowl,

teeth gnashing while speckled foam frothed at his jowl.

The smell of the bite had already turned foul

and while cleaning his wound, his teeth ripped through the towel.

Too soon laid to rest yet too long laid in pain,

all treatments and comforts and prayers were in vain.

His mind came undone by the terrible strain

of her agonized screams and their dreadful refrain.

Each night he heard howling across the dark moor.

Each night it was louder than even before.

Each night he paced faster across the dirt floor

as the sound of his demons continued to roar.

By Ken Gosse

From: United States

Facebook URL: https://www.facebook.com/ken.gosse/