Naw.. I don't like sad.. But here goes..
Dog's point of view.
As a pup we played, my master and I,
And ran though the yard under a clear blue sky.
And in the winter eves when the cold wind blew,
we wrapped up together in blankets me and you.
And we grew up together my master and me,
playing run and go fetch, by the young oak tree.
It was he who grew strong, and I who grew old,
Four years to his one, or so I have been told.
Gradually we no longer played, my master and me,
Nor raced round the yard by the old oak tree.
My master grew cold, and hips they grew old,
incontinent dog and whiny mutt I was told.
But I loved my dear master I have to declare,
Even when words were said in despair.
I loved him when "Come on" said last spoke me,
And opened back door and stamped impatiently.
I loved him when took he the gun from it's rack,
And guided me silently to the shed out the back.
I looked up and wagged my old tail in glee,
two barrels, a squinting eye, the last thing I'd see.