|When I was young I ran and jumped,
As the boys and I would play,
We always had a lot of fun,
I was never in the way.
I'd chase the ball or grab the stick,
Each summer was a joy,
When winter came a snow ball tossed,
Became my favorite toy.
Then one by one the boys left here,
But still life was so good,
No one would hurt my master here,
I'd bite them if they would.
We take long walks in evening light,
When back here he pets my head,
At night he lights a fire warm,
Next to it is my bed.
Now I am old dysplasia makes,
Our walks not so much fun,
I move so slow and have some pain,
Now I can't jump and run.
Sticky hands and tiny feet,
Are visiting today,
It's winter and the snow is deep,
But I am in the way.
My bed is warm there by the fire,
But I'm out in the cold,
I don't understand why I'm out here,
Just because I'm growing old.
|music: Good Company|