My best friend
Weakened joints
And footing not as sure
In younger days was fierce and lightning quick
Now docile and sedentary

He is a good dog
No matter what he does
His good years outnumber those left
His beautiful coat does not tell his age
But his eyes and labored breath
Tell the truth

He is an old dog
My best friend
He does not ask for much
A bowl of food and a spot to lay
Just an old dog
But a good dog
And that’s the truth
And perhaps will be the worst to lose.