This is my heart, there are many like it but they’re not this!
In the forest’s heart, where the tall trees stand,
There roams a hound with a nose so grand.
A Treeing Walker, swift and proud,
His baying bark echoes loud.
Through the woods, he’s a streak of brown,
Chasing raccoons, up trees and down.
With ears that flop and a tail that swirls,
She’s the king of the hunt, as she twists and twirls.
No raccoon’s safe, no squirrel’s at peace,
When this four-legged tracker gets his release.
So here’s to the hound with the bark that resounds,
The Treeing Walker, the best dog around!
The poem above was clearly written about another, more graceful, professional hunting dog. Dolly, is not that! She is a loving snarfling, bundle of nueroses and anxiety, who would lay down her life for me. I couldn’t love anything more.
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