Meditation on Lost Dogs
By Carrie Shipers
Because I have his vet records
and ticket for Roaming, I know
that Jake was lost at least
one time before I rescued him.
So far, I’ve only had to find him
in my dreams, though once
he slipped his harness in the park
and could’ve taken off. When people
cruise my neighborhood looking
for their lost dogs, I promise
I’ll look out for them but also
always wonder what went wrong.
My mom learned not to panic
if her dog got loose: after he
was finished being free, he’d lay down
by the door until she opened it.
Yet before each visit, I’d dream
that he was lost and that it was
my fault. When I showed Jake
where we were moving to,
he rushed from room to room
investigating. I kept him on the leash
till he slowed down to sniff
the bed and bowls I’d brought
from our old place. I won’t say
that I lost my mom because
it implies blame. Once she heard
Dad’s voice calling her, I knew
she couldn’t stay. The lost dogs
in my dreams don’t mean
to run away—they’re just scared
and trying to go home. At night
if Jake gets startled by sirens or storms,
he jumps onto the bed and nudges me
to make sure we’re both found.
About the Author
Carrie Shipers’s poems have appeared in Alaska Quarterly Review, Hayden’s Ferry Review, New England Review, Prairie Schooner, The Southern Review, and other journals. She is the author of four poetry collections, most recently Grief Land (University of New Mexico, 2020).
