A `double-up` call is what Thursday mornings` bring
And I meet Irene who just loves to sing,
But just before Christmas she wore a frown
And I guessed right away why she was so down.
Her little dog Poppy had been ever so sick
And anabolic steroids didn`t do the trick,
So Irene (like me) had to let her friend go
She had to do this `cause she loved her so.
Not much was said between Irene and I
Our hearts were heavy and we wanted to cry,
I felt her pain I knew it only too well
So between us a `knowing silence` fell.
Poppy (like Sweep) is buried at home
In the garden where their spirits are free to roam,
Irene`s heart for Poppy will always pine
But she`ll stay in her heart as Sweep is in mine.
There`s one more little dog I just can`t forget
I wrote about Scamp although we never met,
Out of Love for Scamp, John released him from pain
But in John`s heart Scamp will always remain.
Now I like to think that these three are good friends
`Cause Poppy, Sweep and Scamp to us were Godsends,
I`m sure they`ll be like the three musketeers
Watching out for each other as they were three dears.
