By Roberta Curley
I can still hear her slurping from Liza’s
collapsible bowl, never declining a sip—
tho longing to tumble and roll.
A “little lamb”—face full of hope,
ears flip-floppy, eyes black and bold.
Six pounds of fluff, never glum nor gruff,
Mia offered petters sensory pleasure.
Now she illuminates city skies—a
beacon day and night. Her spirit
enlivens Jackson Square Park. Bench
sitters crave Mia’s pyrotechnic spark.
The pooch, stirred by vast Greenwich
Village charm, knew she couldn’t dig
roots on some upstate farm.
Her mojo mesmerized. Tho clearly
“canine”—Mia’s humanity poured
through. She barked and howled, and
volunteered as a hospital therapy-dog.
WHEW! But chasing and chewing
her small ball rocked Mia’s heart. She
relished a wacky squirrel scuttle—
even giving the rodent a head start.
Mia vanquished every attempted role:
WestView mascot, model, and
champion of inspiring quotes. Bless
Mia’s “Maltipoo” paws as she circles
back to a new watering hole.