Divine Old Dog, you

struggle bravely through the cold winter.

Does the salt hurt your feet,

on the road, old girl?,

Do I see that your paws

sting from the cold,

from the snow you used to prance in,

hunt in?

Are you dragging your sore legs

behind you?

Have I seen ,

in your spectacular eyes,

your pain and confusion,

have I seen you sigh

and try to heal,

from a hundred sore places,

in the hard cold and thick ice.

Please think of suffering as being brushed,

I say, or having your belly rubbed,

you are the most loyal friend,

and guardian,

even when your legs cry out,

you never stop watching,

protecting the

thing you love the most.

Us.

The cold is nothing to your love.