|The dog was slow and ancient, the man was stooped and grey.
I watched as they slowly plodded, each weary step on step.
And through my mind, as they went by, a tinge of sadness swept.
Then stopped the dog and pointed (his form was less than fair);
The farmer kicked the matted growth, then fired at empty air.
Thought I, he must have reasons for putting on this show,
and sure he did, for when I asked he said with eyes aglow,
"Old Spot and I have long been friends and hunted, side by side.
I know there ain`t no quail about, but I'll not hurt his pride.
Though his nose has lost it's keenness, he does the best he can.
In his fading, twilight hours, I'll not let down my friend.
"So when he points, I'll kick the brush, turn sharp, and fire a shot.
And walking up to where he stands I`ll say, 'Well done Old Spot!'.
I watched them as they walked away, and vanished round the bend.
Thought I , Old Spot you lucky dog , to have so staunch a friend.....