My Good Boy
You slept on the bedroom floor
until the stairs became a mountain
you could no longer climb
and age forced you to sleep alone.
I’d still hear your feet at night,
soft, unsure, unsteady, circling,
like you were searching for the part of the house that still belonged to you.
You took affection on your own terms,
for exactly as long as you wanted.
Then you’d quietly get up
and sit at the edge of the room,
close enough to keep me
but far enough to keep yourself.
You always met me at the door.
Just a small, steady greeting
to tell me you’d missed me.
But near the end
you’d greet me with just a look.
It was all you had left to give.
When I made the call
my voice caught as I said the words.
“My good boy is tired now.
It’s time for him to sleep.”
I tried to be brave.
Tried to keep my hands steady
when they gave you the medicine that would help you sleep.
My tears washed over me
as calmness washed over you.
Nothing you ever did was easy.
Not even leaving.
When it didn’t go to plan,
the nurse asked if I wanted to wait outside.
You were the one that never left me over all these years.
I wouldn't leave you now.
You fell asleep with my voice in your ear.
“Good boy. Good boy. My good boy.”
When you were sleeping, I took off your collar.
You always hated it.
You loved to be free.
Now you never have to wear it again.
You didn’t come home,
so I couldn’t go home either.
I went on our favourite walk.
The one you hadn’t been able to finish for months.
I walked it without you,
without your slow, determined steps beside me.
I tried to save you.
The way you saved me
over and over.
But I couldn’t.
And I will carry that.
And I will carry you.
My good boy.
Oskar, my good boy.
4th June 2012 - 4th July 2025