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
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