One Scene After Katrina

The Three of them were on the roof,
the man, his wife, and their black dog.
Water lapped at the edges of the eaves,
water all around, no people, no hope.
They'd been there for three days.
They'd climbed out of their attic
when it filled with water;
they'd hauled the dog, unwilling,
through the attic hole they'd chopped
with a fortunately handy axe.
Three days they'd hoped and waited,
and then the red boat appeared
with helping hands and human voices.

The black dog waved his long tail
as the woman was helped into the boat.
The black dog gave a short woof
as the man was helped into the boat.
He perked his ears and approached,
but the man waved him back, "Stay!"
The dog raised his head but obeyed.
The boat pulled away; the people in it
did not look back and did not see
the surprise, the despair,
the tentative steps toward the water,
the drooped tail, the lowered ears,
or hear the whine of the deserted dog
over the roar of the pushing engine.

I do not know if that dog was ever rescued.
There was no follow-up on TV, ]
although the ASPCA reported searching
for abandoned pets for days that followed.
But that black Labrador's lowered head,
his tentative steps to follow those he loved,
his surprise when he was not called to follow,
and his indecision about diving into
Katrina's flood waters nevertheless,
stay in my heart, and will do so, forever.