The Birth of a Best Friend


A baby dog,
Blind and deaf at first as if lost in a fog,
Born in litters they must all be fair
Puppies born with straight or curly hair,
Spotted or plain
The skills that they gain,
Coats of varying colors,
Carrying the traits of their fathers and mothers
Eating kibble as they grow,
To become the dogs we all know
Special talents each breed has,
As they walk along by or run along past
The years of a dog pass on by,
As they grow old and sigh
Looking after the newest generations,
Glad that there were no complications
As the days go by,
The old dogs die
Painless in their sleep,
Their memories we keep
New generations replay old memories of the great dogs they were
And of the honor they deserve
They kept us safe at night,
Always alert and ready to fight
Never bit nor scratched
In our memories they are attached
As we look up at the stars above,
We give them all our love
They were, and always will be, our best friends

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