Dogs have a sense beyond our ken - <br />At least my little Trixie had: <br />Tail-wagging when I laughed, and when <br />I sighed, eyes luminously sad. <br />And if I planned to go away, <br />She'd know, oh, days and days before: <br />Aye, dogs I think are sometimes fey, <br />They seem to sense our fate in store. <br /> <br />Now take the case of old Tome Low; <br />With flowers each week he'd call on me. <br />Dear Trixie used to love him so, <br />With joyous jump upon his knee. <br />Yet when he wandered in one day, <br />Her hair grew sudden stark with dread; <br />She growled, she howled, she ran away . . . <br />Well, ten hours later Tom was dead. <br /> <br />Aye, dogs hear sounds we cannot hear, <br />And dogs see sights we cannot see; <br />And that is why I took the fear <br />That one day she would glare at me <br />As if a Shape cowered on my bead, <br />And with each hair on end she'd creep <br />Beneath the couch and whine with dread . . . <br />And so I've had her put to sleep. <br /> <br />Now Trixie's gone, the only one <br />Who loved me in my lonely life, <br />And here I wait, my race nigh run, <br />My ill too grievous for the knife. <br />My hand of ice she'll never lick, <br />My heedless mask she'll never see: <br />No heartbreak - just a needle prick. . . . <br />Oh, Doctor, do the same for me!<br /><br />Robert William Service<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/trixie/
