The Divine Old Dog speaks of sadness sometimes,

some of her old friends are sick,

the deer had the toughest winter,

the birds froze in their trees,

the Divine Old Dog down the road,

who barked with her every morning,

my best friend,

is gone, she says, she barks no more.

There is so much sadness in the world,

so many aching legs and sore feet,

so much death and sorrow,

isn’t it good to cry sometimes,

and just feel bad?

I am swimming in the River Of Life.

I pray to be humble, says the Divine Old Dog,

so that the world does not appear to be so stingy

with love and joy and good news,

I pray to be honest, strong, kind to those I love, pure,

so that life does not appear to be

a cruel old miser,

hoarding his shiny gold,

counting the money in his bank.

Never mind, says the Divine Old Dog,

life can be a joy, life can be a mess,

I had this dream, she confides,

that the Gods invited me to a party,

and everyone who came had an angel

for a partner, sitting on their shoulder, sharing the table,

and the Divine Old Dog knows the beautiful truth,

that there is no one on this earth,

no person,

no dog,

who is not invited to dance,

on their crystal dance floor,

a million stars twirling in the skies.