POETRY CORNER: The Duke of Earl

The Duke of Earl
(Ode to my dad Earl and his dog Duke)

by Bruce DeMerchant

They met in a shelter full of barking want,
But my father, Earl, chose the quiet one.
Duke didn’t beg.
He didn’t perform.
He just sat there–steady.

A neighbor laughed the day they came home:
“Well look at that–here comes the Duke of Earl.”
And the name stayed.

From then on, Duke rode shotgun.
That passenger seat wasn’t a seat–
It was his throne.

They went to camp together
down a dirt road lined with fields and ponds.
When Duke was young, he ran beside the truck.
When he go older, Dad said,
“Thats far enough. You ride.”

One morning mom climbed into Duke’s seat.
Dad called, “Come on, Duke! We’re going to camp.”
Duke leapt up–
saw mom–
and backed right out.

He circled the truck.
Circled the house.
He was not getting in that truck.

Dad sighed.
“Connie…I hate to ask you this…
but could you step out and let Duke get in?”

Mom did.
Duke climbed in.

On the way to camp,
Mom looked over and saw Duke
leaning as hard as he could into Dad.
staring at her as if to say,
“Now look where I’m sitting.”

No one took his place.
No one could.

But time does what time does.
Duke grew blind.
A tumor took his strength.

Dad took him to the vet.
Came home alone.

Mom found him in his truck crying.
“I’ll be okay. Connie,” he said.
Go back in. I’ll be okay.”

And now they’re both gone –
my father, Earl,
and his dog, Duke.

But I like to think
there’s a dirt road somewhere beyond us,
a truck rolling steady,
a dog riding shotgun,

and someone laughing in the distance –

“There goes the Duke of Earl.”