Boo

This poem was my first poem. It is very sentimental and emotional to myself and daughter being it’s about Bob Quarles and his dog which was named Boo. Bob Quarles was my daughter’s husband and he committed suicide after a lengthy illness.

I was visiting my daughter, Dawn, in Pensacola Florida and staying with her. My daughter lived in this turn of the century house in the historical district. It was sort of a row house with antebellum ceilings and hard oak wood floors.

My daughter surrendered her bed being the model host and I retired to bed. I was awakened in the middle of the night by her dog, Boo, pacing around the house on the hardwood floors, his nails making a lot of noise. I knew it was the dog but I was intrigued by what he was about in his restlessness.

Boo was the family pet. He had been found abandoned and rescued by my daughter. He was of a questionable ancestry which we all made guesses as to. He was jet black and lovable and my grandson’s first dog.

My daughter’s husband, Bob, took him dove and duck hunting and he was the consummate squirrel chaser. My daughter’s husband became sick with a degenerate disease called “Still’s Disease” and after years of tests and medical procedures decided he didn’t want to live that way and took his own life by committing suicide. I can understand it but was troubled in that it causes so much heartache for those that survive him, namely my grandson and daughter not to mention his parents and family.

I created the poem out of an inspiration as to the thoughts of Boo, their dog. I was a grown man in their house and I think it stirred Boo’s recollection of his master. I believe Boo was restless because I was there and it's plausible that he remembered and became fretful that something wasn’t right and I wasn’t the man that was supposed to be there.

Boo is now also passed and was of an old age of 14. He was replaced by one of my dog’s litter, which are yellow labs. My grandson’s new dog is named Scout. Boo is buried in the back yard of a new home in Pace, Florida

Boo Dog

By Thomas Gregory Moore, May, 2012

From the realm of dreams I wake

One breathless breath I dare to take

As from a coffin I seem to stare

In ebony darkness I am aware!

Strange sounds now tickle my fear

Impatient pacing I appear to hear

Canine nails on hardwood floors

Incessant clicking on oaken boards

From a palisade of pillows I peer

At wolvine eyes so very near

It’s only a dog, a wolf pretending

It’s Boo dog, my dear old friend

As dark as night is my friend Boo

Grey beard, grey muzzle, whiskers too

What’s the matter, what do you seek?

Into your thoughts I wish to peek

Something's missing, something's gone

Where is my master? Somethings wrong

To speak aloud would be his choice

But a bark, a whine is not a voice

From times ere present he remembers fall

He and his master he oft recalls

Of birds on wing, of ducks in flight

Of water and marshes, fogs delight

From his master’s side he did stare

At blue skies and cold morning air

Irritating squirrels barking on high

Brought leaps of joy breaching the sky

Where’s his master? His voice gone

Where’s his caress for which he longs?

Where’s the truck I used to greet

Where’s the lap into which I leaped

Where’s his hand? The praises begged?

Boo was cared for, loved and fed

Where is his master his eyes reflect?

Fretful longing and worry I detect

Your master's gone, I can’t explain

To a dog would be inane

Unknown malady his body baked

Left broken lungs in its wake

Choosing not to waste away

Your master, a disease did take

Explanations I have none

Not for myself or anyone

Cherished memories are what’s left

Of your master so much love is felt

Boo, no tenant or creed has he

Far more nobler and purer than me

Salvation and damnation isn’t his concern

His master’s approval only he yearns

Heaven and hell you can’t perceive

Truth is you can only grieve

Are Boo and I not alike?

Creatures akin in God’s sight

One day soon all will end on cue

You’ll hear a whistle, a command, Here Boo!

Then off you will go beyond the veil

And find your master, all will be well

Boo dog, old dog, and old friend

We now approach our winter’s end

Not the seasons do we test?

But all eternity and heaven’s rest