Our Little Dog

Our little dog is getting old, a poodle black as night or so he was when just a lad but now he’s almost white. He follows Joan around the house he’s not the one to roam, if she goes out and leaves him there, he cries ‘til she gets home. He is a sprightly little dog ’though age has made its call, he’s nearly deaf and almost blind so now runs into walls. I hope when I’m as old as he, in ‘human terms’ I mean, I’ll still be bouncing full of joy as our dogs always been. So take a moral from our dog however old you get, if you let old age slow you down it’s you who needs the vet! Ivor G Davies