With a lump in my throat, I hung up my coat,
And replaced your old lead in the drawer,
Sat down in the chair, ran a hand through my hair,
As I realized you'd be there no more.

The vet said, "It's old age--it's the end of the page,
It's something we cannot ignore."
It was ended I knew and I cried then as you,
Went alone through that great final door.

When we entered the vet's, others sat with their pets,
Watched us walk side by side, 'cross the floor,
Then I came out alone and started back home,
They all knew I should see you no more.

When I think of the years, the laughter, the tears,
All our walks over meadow and tor,
Of your sparkling brown eyes, I just can't realize,
That I shall look in them no more.

But there will come a time when I'm well past my prime,
You'll be waiting my friend,
As I get to the end,
And we'll walk together once more.
~Betty Kirk