I wasn't thinking of dawgs when I poasted that doggerel; but I suppose it applies, doesn't it? It's funny how our Maker moves too. Perhaps the weather or time of year triggered it... but I woke up this morn thinking of Sled Dog Sally - the first dog my wife and I had as a couple. She was a Siberian Husky, coloured much like the one Joe gives us here. She had one brown eye, one grey...and an understated bandit mask. She had a rocky start in life and I almost killed her a couple times trying to break some very nasty behaviour patterns... she was a rescue dawg from the SPCA, She had belonged to some red nigger off the reservation who had a sled team. He made a trip into the city one summer and wandered off, leaving the team in the back of a stuffy cube van in the height of summer. The authorities broke into the van to rescue the dogs trapped inside... and Sally was one of the ones still alive. She'd shown signs of abuse consistent with dogs in puppy mills. But in time she came around. But she's been gone forever, now. Even our house cats loved her.
A lot of us seem to be thinking of absent friends these days... and I just thought the poem might strike a fond chord for some.