I spoke with a friend yesterday who told me his dog had just died. His youngest daughter was only three when they got the puppy, and she essentialy grew into her teen years with him. Now he’s dead, and the whole family mourns him. So, to my friend and his family, I offer the following: (Ignore the quality of the poem. I wasn’t much older than a teenager when this was written, and I was still learning English.)
All the day he is my faithful companion
He dogs my footsteps everywhere;
A soft word, a quiet pat makes him happy,
He does not demand any loving care.
On our walks together I leave the leash.
He runs ahead but returns to me.
Our friendship is not based on harsh commands,
To his heart I found the magic key.
And late in the night as I sit at my desk
And put down in rhythm and rhymes my dreams,
He is happily sleeping at my feet
And helps this way to dream my dreams.