In this life of hollow repetition,
There is only one thing that keeps me going,
It is love in the purest of forms, not contaminated by hate or loathing,
Thou I may not do right, Thou I may not be perfect, It is an undying love, On which I may rely,
Come hell or high water,
Come infidelity or misbehaviour, Drunkenness or debauchery, There is one love that will remain strong.
If I die soon,
Will his heart break,
Will he pine away to be with me once more,
Will his world be as empty as mine should roles reverse.
It seem sad that my life has come to this, If I end my self and my misery, What will become of my Henry,
For my life revolves around him,
His mahogany colours shine,
His white blaze the gloss of polished onyx, His eyes so loving and trusting.
For there is one who is so overjoyed to see my return? One who fills my life with joy,
Someone who only ever agrees with me,
And doesn’t moan at my going out,
Who only insists on my safe return.
Whether drunk or sober,
Happy or sad,
Henry greets me at the door, Wagging tail and slavering jowls, Happy excited and relieved to see me again. But as for me,
What will I do when he leaves me.
This is about my boy Henry, the boxer, he was a gorgeous dog, and mad as a box of frogs, if left unattended he would drink your pint, as he stuffed his nose in to the glass, he was a monster, but i loved him. We lost him in 2015, at the age of 14 and a half.