Sly, an enormous yellow lab, started out
as a golden ball of fur with papers
naming him Sylvester Buttercream.
Sly is the name we call him, although
there is nothing Sly about his intentions
as he bounces across the room
in search of wet, sloppy kisses.
Grace is not his style as he spills
more water than he drinks.
Sly, an affectionate Labrador retriever, is
my rival for Jim’s attention.
Side by side they watch TV shows and
violent videos together.
Side by side and safe from my intrusion
and subsequent allergic reaction.
Sly, a constant presence in our lives,
brings out the differences in our nature.
As we leave an art exhibit in Maine,
I talk of island scenes and splashes of color
while he zeros in on a yellow lab
we encounter in the museum parking lot.
Susan Sullivan
In memory of Sly (1987-1999)