Telling our son his dog died

Jennifer Cox

We tell our son
The dog died
That she was sick and
Couldn’t get better
We tell him
She isn't coming back

Our son is confused
He doesn't know death
Only smushed a few bugs sometimes
He asks
"She is . . . Somewhere?"

I do not tell him
That she is in the vet's freezer
I do not tell him that soon
She will be cremated

I do not tell him
we will spread her ashes
Over the lake she loved 
and her remnants will settle
On the lily pads and 
mint lining the shore
And will stick, undetected
To the bottoms of our feet
As we come out of the shallows
I do not tell him
That then our feet will carry her
Wherever we go

So I do not tell him that soon
She will be everywhere

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Jennifer Cox (she/her) is a poet, lawyer, and mother. Her poetry primarily revolves about motherhood, birth, and the impending climate crisis. She enjoys reading, spending time outdoors, and playing with her children. Her work has previously appeared in the League of Canadian Poets' Poetry Pause and Bywords.ca. She resides in Ottawa with her children and husband.