I woke where warmth and sleep abide, where master’s young ones lie,
Their fingers tugged my ear with love beneath the waking sky.
She, soft of voice and full of smells, brought food and stroked my head,
And master drew my Daycloak close, and out the pack then led.
The garden laughed with light and scent, the gate swung wide and free,
Oh joy! Oh world of hidden smells! Come dance and play with me!
We marched, and master’s stride was proud; I sniffed the morning air,
And squeaky-chewy rode along, my prize beyond compare.
A sudden stink, a stranger near, two-legs with growling hand,
I caught his wrist before it struck, and stood the bite he planned.
Then master cried and laughed and rubbed, and gave me praise and cheer,
For I had held the bite at bay, and kept my people clear.
The work-pack came, and I was hailed with pats and smells and grins,
The bad-breath brute still wagged with pride despite his countless sins.
The apple-smelling girls were kind, they said I was the best,
Their shoes bore scents of mountain walks and fields where foxes rest.
I heard the word all dogs adore, the thrum that melts the bone,
“Good dog, good dog”, it wrapped my heart and made me feel I’m home.
The sun was low, we homeward turned, and pups again did play,
I danced, I barked, I chased my tail, then sleep crept in to stay.
A golden square of warming light fell softly on the floor,
I curled within its gentle bounds and dreamed of scents once more.
The house was full, the pack was fed, the day was good and done,
And I, their dog, had kept the gate from dusk till morning sun.
(By John Shenton)