Fresh Sorrow: Saying Good-bye to a Pet

I was in Moscow, Idaho staying with a friend when I got the call from my former husband that my first pet and dear springer spaniel Nikki had died.  He asked me if he could bury her behind our former house in the orchard where she used to love to run and hunt pheasants. He asked me if he could wrap her in her favorite blanket. I remember mumbling yes and yes. He only had visitation rights since he left us. It only seemed fair.I remember going into the shower to sob in privacy. I also went for a long walk to mourn a bit longer. It was a long time before I completely recovered. When I reread Jane Kenyon's  The Blue Bowl this evening I understood all that she was saying. Since I have moved to my present house there are many pets that have been buried on the property.

The Blue Bowl

by Jane Kenyon

Like primitives we buried the cat

with his bowl. Bare-handed

we scraped sand and gravel

back into the hole.

                             They fell with a hiss

and thud on his side,

on his long red fur, the white feathers

between his toes, and his

long, not to say aquiline, nose.

We stood and brushed each other off.

There are sorrows keener than these.

Silent the rest of the day, we worked,

ate, stared, and slept. It stormed

all night; now it clears, and a robin

burbles from a dripping bush

like the neighbor who means well

but always says the wrong thing.

Jane Kenyon, “The Blue Bowl” from Collected Poems. Copyright © 2005 by Jane Kenyon. Reprinted by permission of Graywolf Press.
Source: Poetry (June 1987).