Ode to the Whisky Dog
Ignoring the weather or time of night
Once I had ignited the beacon light
Her tail a wagging she did run
To the patio in search of fun
From one Booze Dancer to another
To be hand-fed or just a bother
In search of Fritos, Doritos, or chips
Her appetite unquenched as we sipped
A fine companion, on a Glen Cairn night
Her fur slightly singed in the firelight
(Let’s not discuss or ever admit
Exactly how her fur got lit)
But to the beacon she’ll run no more
To St. Peter’s fire pit she will tour
To see what’s become of the angel’s share
A halo wrapped around her golden hair
So we will raise the Parting Glass
And hope as time begins to pass
That her constant presence no longer felt
Within our hearts will ever dwell