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I sit and watch poor ole Duke,
my trusty dusty hound.
Sleeping soundly by the fire,
on a tattered blanket that he had found.
I watch his eyes twitch,
and his plump short legs are pumping.
I wonder if he's dreaming,
of when he was a pup with his fat tail thumping.
Is he chasing a rabbit or just running around,
poor old Duke isn't what he used to be.
He's given me the best years of his life,
his love was loyal and so very free.
All he ever asked in return,
was a pat upon his back.
And an occasional scratch behind his ear,
his love is mighty without any lack.
Now I watch my poor old Duke,
basking by the fire.
And I wonder what his mind is thinking,
what are his desires?
Almost as if he heard my thoughts,
he crawled and placed his head upon my lap.
He snorted and yawned and licked my hand,
then continued with his nap.
Once again, his legs are pumping,
chasing a squirrel up a tree I suppose.
Why wonder where his thoughts may lie,
he loves me, and that's all I need to know.
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