To Penny of Pennsylvania

You were chosen because you were a runt.
One could say you died because you were a runt.
Only one kidney to keep you alive.
To get you home was quite the drive.
On my lap you did sit, now you have sunken into a pit.
Wiry black hair I would pet without a care.
Small as could be but big in heart.
You barked at the doorbell as if it were an art.
In your final days beneath the grandfather clock.
You lie there in shock.
Your clock ticking down as you drown.
When you first got home I played with you in the den.
You were rarely put in a pen.
Before you left I played with you as you felt so blue.