Big Black Dog

"Son, you do not yet know, though your heart
is shabby as mine, what it is like. I was awakened
as usual by the tingling chest and arm, and sprinted

by moonlight to the cabinet for my nitro. It was
so beautiful out that I went straight to the back steps
for waiting to see if this would be my final hour,

because I thought the moon riding the river's back
would be the finest sort of thing to visit last.
The neighbor's dog, a tall black pinscher,

came from the shadows, sat on his haunch and howled.
Now a dog, they say, will howl when a person's going
and as that was what I happened to be doing

just then, I was not surprised. But it made me mad
for it to be so obvious, you know? I like my dying
private. So I said, You hush! Somebody might

be leaving here tonight, but it won't be me! He
gave me a funny look, and went and lay down quiet.
Suited me; I went back to watching the moon

do its moon-on-the-water thing. Got on
to bed, slept good, got up, had my coffee
in the morning, went out to the mailbox. And Gert --

you remember her -- said, Martha! did you know
your neighbor up and died last night? The one
with the big black dog?"