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To My Dear and Loving Louie
by Hezekiah Allen Taylor

If ever you need to go out, I'm at the door.
If ever you need to play, I won't be the bore.
If ever dog was happy with life,
You have an existence of joy, rife.
I prize thee more than fresh, chilled borscht
Should you die, my weekends will be the worst.
We'll bury you in the field out back,
And we'll be so kind as to use a sack.
But think not of that my furry little dove;
Instead think of the scraps I will feed my love.
With grilled steak and buttered bread we'll dine
And then you'll understand that you'll always be mine.

***
An animal ode based on Anne Bradstreet's "To My Dear and Loving Husband," the full text of which can be found at http://www.poets.org/poems/poems.cfm?prmID=2458.

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