The Well Balanced Dog

When I was young, I had a dog

called Ricky. Ricky came to live

with us when he was a puppy

and we were inseparable.


We lived next to the fields and we would

go there for long walks together.

Eleven years old when he came

and twenty two when he left us.

Eleven years of my life he

was present. I believe that dogs

resemble their owners, in ways

That surprise the owners themselves

If I lay in late, he was there,

right beside me, happy dog that

he was; the best dog ever to live

At least in our family home.

My father was the boss at home;

we all knew when to be quiet and

when it was safe to laugh and play.

Ricky knew the rules of the house.

He managed not to upset dad,

by being good and never bad.

He was gentle and he would let

our pet budgie onto his back.

Off to the vet, he had a cough

He looked at me, as if to say

He understood; it was okay.

He didn’t come back home that day

A tearful day in our wee house.

Not a dry eye was to be seen.

He was a great dog, he was mine.

The family loved my Ricky

We were kindred spirits, and I

still think of him as time goes by.

If he was a man, he would be

a gentleman, perfect for me.



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