His little feet moved with the grace of a dancer
His nose tweaking in sheer delight
No need to wait for command or an answer
As he’d catch a stray ball still in flight.

He would run through the waves as they broke near the shore
The foam matching his snowy fur,
His quivering body demanding much more
So his dive for the ball was blur.

He was loyal to his family. Year after year,
Vince was a wonderful friend.
Now, as we shed each sad, wishful tear
At the fact that his life had to end

We can think of his time in some doggie heaven,
Past and fond memories recall.
For we know that forever, each week one to seven
He’ll be up there chasing his ball.


~ by Anne Powles on June 7, 2017.

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