Zen

A big dog,

With Pitbull eyes,

Rescued off the streets.

I thought he might be a problem.

We met nine years ago.

It was his first visit. 

He stood in the entrance 

As our smaller dog Rose examined him.

Zen towered over her 

But before concern could set in

He lay down on the floor

And rolled over onto his back.

With no interest in fighting,

He was always ready to play,

Using his substantial rear

To propel Rose across the room.

An intuitive fellow,

Zen did not have to be taught limits.

Where the grass in a small park ended,

So did his freedom to run.

I wish I had known him better.

No doubt he had his flaws,

But as I told his partner,

“If you’re leaving, send Zen to me.”