A Touch of Grey

For a Good Dog

My little pup ten years ago

was arrogant and spry,

Her backbone was a bended bow

for arrows in her eye.

Her step was proud, her bark was loud,

her nose was in the sky,

But she was ten years younger then,

And so, by God, was I.

Small birds on stilts along the beach

rose up with piping cry.

And as they rose beyond her reach

I thought to see her fly.

If natural law refused her wings,

that law she would defy,

for she could do unheard-of things,

and so, at times, could I.

Ten years ago she split the air

to seize what she could spy;

Tonight she bumps against a chair,

betrayed by milky eye!

She seems to pant, Time up, time up!

My little dog must die,

And lie in dust with Hector's pup;

So, presently, must I.

-- Ogden Nash, 1949