Waiting Room

Waiting Room 

Here we are again, as you lie on the floor,

At the side of my chair, your lead lying slack,

Just one look at you, it’s no wonder

We were asked to sit at the back.

I felt it was the least that we could do,

Because you’re not too strong in the knees,

And they didn’t want the other pets put out,

Nor frightened, nor infected with fleas.

Cos now you’re old, and you’re toothless,

You’re half-deaf and you’re half-blind,

All of which I can put up with:

It’s the incontinence that I mind.

You’re becoming increasingly forgetful.

You just look puzzled, you old wretch.

And you stop half way to the stick:

You’ve forgotten what you were going to fetch.

You’ve become an economic burden,

And now that you’re not very well,

You’re neither use nor ornament.

And, on top of all that, you smell.

So here we are for your last journey,

The end of the road for you as a pet.

The life-force of you will soon be ended,

By that needle in the hands of the vet.

So don’t you look up at me like that,

With those big, brown, trusting eyes.

I’m sure you can see into my purpose,

This visit is one way – it can’t be disguised.

You’ve grown up with me and the children,

You’ve always been faithful and loyal.

You’ve put in your years of good service,

And to us you’ve been a friend quite royal.

Dammit, everybody loves you,

Though you’re a toothless old hound.

You’re just a part of the furniture -

I think that it’s time we turned round.

Let’s leave this deathly waiting room,

Let’s walk right out calm and steady.

You don’t need to be pushed into this,

We can do it when I’m finally ready.

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2016