Shakespeare Challenge: faithfull servant.

This is a picture of my (late) Cavalier King Charles Spaniel. He came from a noble line. Faithful is one word that describes our relationship. Servant is another. For many years I was his faithful servant.

I would bring his food and drink at the appointed time. His favourite chair in front of the fire or TV would always have a freshly plumped cushion. Sometimes when it was too cold or wet for a walk I would go out on my own to save him the bother.

From time to time he would go to stay with his brothers and sisters while I had my annual holiday. Once he went to stay in kennels. He brought back a present on his return, but thankfully the vet soon cleared it up.

We had many happy times together - often I would run around the garden with a stick while he looked through the French Windows, politely stifling a yawn before ambling back to his bed.

Once Anniemay took him out for a walk when I was too ill. She came back with just the lead and a look of panic on her face. Fortunately the owner of a female toy poodle returned him along with an offer to curb his ‘enthusiasm’ for the poodle for once and for all.

He was 12 years old when he died and for a while my natural propensity to serve was redundant. However once Anniemay started blipping I was able to put all those years of experience as a dog’s body into good effect.

My dog is like a red, red rose
His smell is over-powering
His ancestors cannot be Wolf
He sees a cat – he’s cowering

He’s such a fussy eater
I have to feed by hand
His ears flop in his water bowl
I tie them with a band

He cannot chase a rubber ball
Won’t even fetch stick
The only thing he’s mastered
Is a disappearing trick

He will not win a major prize
Though he has looks a plenty
I fear his brain is just too small
Either that or empty

In spite of this I love him
He’s my dog, after all
Though he is on the small side
And I am on the tall

With apologies to Robert Burns, who may or may not have had a dog like mine.