“Beau” by Jimmy Stewart
He never came to see me when I would call--- Unless I had a tennis ball. But mostly, he didn’t come at all. When he was young, he never learned to heel or sit or stay. He did things his own way Discipline was not his bag. But when you were with him, things sure didn’t drag.
And as I would leave the room, He’d look at me from his place by the fire. He knew where the tennis balls were, upstairs. I’d give him one for a while. He’d push it under the bed with his nose And I’d push it out with a smile.
Before very long, he’d tire of the ball And he would be asleep in his corner at no time at all.
He’d dig up a rose bush to spite me And when I’d grab him, he’d bite me. He bit lots of folks from day to day. The delivery boy was his favorite prey. The gas man wouldn’t read our meter, He said we owned a real man eater.
And there were nights when I’d feel him climb upon our bed And lay between us and I’d pat his head. There were nights when I’d feel his stare, And I’d wake up and he’d be sitting there. And I’d reach out to stroke his hair. And now he’s dead.. And there are nights when I think I feel him climb upon our bed and he between us, And I’d pat his head. And there are nights when I think
He set the house on fire, but the story is long to tell. Suffice to say, he survived, and the house as well. On evening walks, and Gloria took him, He was always first out the door. The old one and I brought up the rear because our bones were sore. He’d charge up the street with Mom hanging on -- -- What a beautiful pair they were!
I feel that stare.. And I reach out my hand to stroke his hair.. And he’s not there. Oh, how I wish that wasn’t so--- I’ll always love a dog named --”Beau”.
To follow him where he was bound, We’re early bedders at our house, I guess I’m the first one to retire,
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