Eyes Like Those.

Liquidly dark, humanised, and somehow defining each long glance as wise beyond most of his kind, eyes, like those of Jess my dog, daily hypnotised me. Never sly, but strangely asserting firm assurance, that dog had it all, and bypassers' sighs of delight who met and reflected that gaze were a sure sign. The canine was a model of aliveness like no other I had ever seen, and he had an extraordinary mind. I could only admire his masertly mission to lead. He rounded up all household pets, and he helped them to wash and feed. The day he rescued one small lost aviary bird which had made an escape was a day to remember, and in which he excelled. Despite galeforce winds, he found and nosed out the frightened bird's whereabouts, and whining he sat as he barked for assistance until someone heard, which was well into evening, but Jess saved the bird. Mine was the pleasure of living with Jess of the large eyed intelligence on very small legs, he of the tenderest of ways, and the heart of devotion if he was given the top-dog place, otherwise one altered look from those eyes would melt any but strongest resistance, his appeal was relentless. Long before he decided he could no longer live any more without his dead brother, whom he had babied for years, he had been so very alert. Every intent he had was registered in those eyes. Soulful that look when refusing to eat, he pined himself into Dreamtime, but he left behind tears. Eyes like those did not need words, though even before last goodbyes they tried to allay any fears as he went by bestowing on me one final gaze. I knew I would miss that wonderful dog and I did.