DINGO    

               I supposed, then  I knew,  I had never had a friend as he,

Without a doubt, as he lay there in my arms, peaceful and quite relaxed,

He too, without a doubt, had never had such a friend as me.

From the moment I saw him we were quite inseparable, just about three weeks was he,

The second words that I spoke to, or about him, was "He's Mine" and those were the same that he said of me,

The first were "He's a Dingo" and although different from his, not so different as, "I'm His Dingo," and it began that way, our hearts were knit…just because,

So he was Dingo, an extension of my hip indeed,

He walked the line of cars that needed windshield attention as we visited our customers day after day,

He was truly of the working breed.

Guard our truck? There never was a day that anything could be taken without attention from the alpha male,

The perpetrator always so sorry to have come under the glare of those penetrating eyes, that would turn any deep, red blush, pale.

He knew his job and he new it well, but in play he rode like the wind on His motorcycle, laying alert on the gas tank watching for whatever may be the case,

On a near accident when we laid over and skidded sideways and righted in the most miraculous of place,

The Dingo was unmoved, and casually walked to the nearest tree, and cool and assured, marked his space.

His devotion and loyalty unsurpassed, if in the largest container it would be filled to the brim,

Within him was contained the kindest heart of a little child,

And the ferocity to shiver the nerves of any one that would do harm to we, who belonged to him,

Putting my mouth around his muzzle to fill him with air,

And placing my hand on his heart pushing it to beat,

He looked deep into my heart as only he was able to do, and knew that I was there.

He left just a few days ago, but this weekend Ditto and I spent learning to ride the motorcycle, "and Dingo, you would be proud of your son, for he did quite well",

As Dingo's Father did in years past, he left me a part of himself to lessen the gap as time would at last,

Bringing us in site of the rainbow, where eyes will once again lock, knit hearts will sing and the motorcycle will wail into the distance.   .

For it is said that there is a rainbow bridge where he will be waiting,

If it's true, he'll not be playing, he'll be watching and listening,

Watching for his partner, and listening for the approaching sound of his motorcycle,

Next to the cars with the chips in the windshields,

For,           HE IS DINGO.