by Christine Adams Beckett
Since my pen is frozen in grief over the loss of our beloved family pet, Pooch, I shall rely on the eloquence of another today.
I have done mostly what men do,
And punched it out of my mind;
But I can’t forget, if I wanted to,
Four-Feet trotting behind.
Day after day, the whole day through —
Wherever my road inclined–
Four-Feet said, ‘I am coming with you!’
And trotted along behind.
Now I must go by some other round–
Which I shall never find–
Some where that does not carry the sound
Of Four-Feet trotting behind.