Little guy, you crept, wag-first
into my heart one day!
The years sped by . . .
Then came the Call
you could not bark away.
(Tell me, does your moisty nose
still nudge encircling arms?
Where you are now, are smiles more bright
before your many charms?)
Someday, I'll whistle low "our" call
and from your Pleasant Land . . .
you'll race to greet me . . . for you'll know
I need you. Understand?