Just had this published in 'The Highland Times' a magazine for HPEC members. It tells of Jock's last night.
His Final Night
No turning back, decision made,
take out the drip that all this day
has stopped him finding comfort in the straw,
his folding legs and drawn out sigh
shout silently his pain and sadness,
I cannot watch him suffer any more.
The vet returns to coax him up again,
a stoic effort this, his final hour
still trying to please. He follows me
slow motion steps -stop-go- in jerky time,
a pause, a hop, then on once more
till finally we reach the corner of the yard
in darkness, the place where he will die.
His death was quick, too fast to call
as heavy bulk hit hard the concrete floor,
repeat his name so many times
and all the while still stroking, stroking,
I take his final warmth for something to hold onto
and in return, to guide him in the darkness,
I give him the light from my soul.