Monday, October 11, 2010

Nothing But A Dog Would Do

My father, who turns 84 this month, asked me to write him a poem for a birthday present. It was inevitable that I should write a piece about his precious dogs, for, until just recently, he has always had one at his side. This poem is lovingly dedicated to the furry friends who brought my father great joy through the years and to my father who loved them back, no holds barred. Mickey, Taffy, Bullet, Fritzie, Beau, Chips, Newfie, Kate, and Pippi ~ thank you for blessing my father all the days of his life.

Nothing but nothing
stirred his soul
like the wag of a tail,
like a playful bark,
like a cold wet nose,
like a walk in the park...

Nothing but a dog would do.

From earliest days
there was always a pup
to fetch a ball,
to chew a stick,
to bury a bone,
to offer a lick...

Nothing but a dog would do.

He cared not for money
but he was richer by far
with his loyal companions
than emperors and kings
with endless dominions
and fine diamond rings...

Nothing but a dog would do.

There was something about
a four-legged pal
with a shiny black snout,
with a tilted head,
with a padded paw,
with a flop on the bed...

There was something that only
my father knew...

Nothing but a dog would do.


  1. I think you did a wonderful job and hope he loves it. :)

  2. Just wanted to post on your blog that I really liked your poem.


  3. you know, we need an update. Did he love it?