(For Shaggy)
He wasn’t big and he wasn’t small. He lived to eat and to chase his ball. His raison d’etre: Fun, fun fun. His single speed was run, run, run. He loved to laugh in his doggish way. To lick my bowl and to have his say. Past fifty years he’s been away and I still miss him every day.
This article appears in ‘Ground Zero’.
Brought tears for my own dog of 60 plus years back. A really wonderful poem.
Some tell me, Tim, we shall not meet again,
But for their Loveless Logic need we care? —
If I should win to Heav’n’s gate I know
You will be waiting there.