A Dog's Life Initial Version Sixteen Years

Sixteen years, now almost seventeen,
I came at beck and call, stayed seldom still
until my master called, or whistle shrill
recalled me to my place. My sight was keen.

Sixteen years, I stood as faithful friend,
as boon companion spinning out the years.
His mother passed away, I shared the tears
that fountained forth and never seemed to end.

Sixteen years, come rain or shine, I d walk
twice, sometimes thrice a day, I sensed each smell
around the house, yes every one knew well well,
and after dinner heard the table talk.

Sixteen years from pet to family,
from playful pat to priceless kith and kin,
I vetted all who'd fall for either twin,
could smell a rat or chase cat up a tree.

Sixteen years I watched the children grow,
suffered their untaught hands, that now caress,
I guard them still, still at the same address,
as I will do til its my turn to go.

Sixteen years that gambolled life away,
with water, beef and bone, I've played at will.
The smells less sharp are now, and soon I will
make my last bow - yet still, in dreams, I play!

(5 January 1992)

poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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