The Wee Dog 1985

It’s just a wee little dog
But it’s a feisty Scot
With a stout heart

You laugh.
But it’s a high and noble thing he gives me as a free gift
Love
With honor.

For the mite loves me with a stout heart
Waiting for me patient when I’m gone
Racing around me in circles when I come home
Bursting with joy.
There’s none like him!

Take my word, he’s a rascal.
How I labor to clean him up and take proper care of him!
And he repays me by rolling in the muck;
That fine sense of humor he has, putting me in my proper place;
That dignity, defying all the dirt.

But when things are tough, do you know
He is gentle
The little gentleman
Staring out at me
With eyes that slay me with the love he gives me
Free for nothing
All wrapped up in the dignity he carries in that wee hide

There’ll be no room in Hell for the likes of him
Miserable dogless place that it is

Where else could the wee dog end up?
Could the ground contain a spirit like that?
Go ahead and laugh.
I’ll wager the Good Lord couldn’t refuse the smiling mite
Surely, Heaven will abound with his like
Aye
I’m sure of it
The wee dog has taught me about stout heart
And love with honor
All that I ever hope to be
He is already.

Look at him!
Those eyes follow me ever, where I go
Just awaiting for a word from me
Look at his joy, the way he sings under my praise
Like a quivering bow
That arrow has pierced my heart.

God
Would that I could be unto Thee
As that wee dog is to me

Aye, I’m sure of it
It is a high and noble thing,
Given as a free gift
Love with honor
And laughter
This blue blooded dignity
All wrapped up in a wee furry hide
A bursting with joy