On The Day That Pudsy Died

A cold fog from the mountain stole across the countryside
And cloaked the fields in greyness on the day that Pudsy died
She had survived many life's battles and she did not die easily
Like her I too must go the way of time whenever that will be.

Our dark brown cattle dog Pudsy to us devoted to the end
All of our family grieved for her she was a family friend
We buried her by our old home beside the cypress tree
And despite the passing of the years she lives in my memory.

More of a hunting than a cattle dog for fox and badger she went to ground
And she was the best fighting dog for miles and miles around
When challenged by another dog Pudsy never backed away
Though she never did start a fight that much of her one can say.

I watched her fighting many times and never see her beat
she was the champion fighting dog on our side of Millstreet
As a watchdog or a guard dog on her one could not depend
For Pudsy did love people she was everybody's friend.

A hairy rugged outdoor dog she did not mind it wet and cold
She even slept out in the rain though time had left her old
As an outdoor dog she lived and died and of her I can say
That she enjoyed the outdoor sort of life in her own happy way.

A cold fog stole down from the hill and cloaked the fields in gray
On the day our dark brown cattle dog old Pudsy passed away
Until the moment that she died as our friend she did remain
And often times in my memory I hunt with her again.