The Coat

Long ago in Littleton, when just a little lad My parents bought a coat for me of rusty-orange plaid. Not made for higher fashion, nor one of tailored fit Yet of all my favorite coats, I’d say this one was “it.” While I wore it for a time through all that nature threw, It had another purpose: it was The Coat for you know who! More than my protection, my “call to arms” to say the least, I would head out to the back, to confront the wagging beast. With the single word of: "Up!” a playful ritual began She lunged upon my sleeve and our raucous bouts began. I would pull her left, then to the right with all my might Though often growling loudly, her tail revealed delight. So many memories of her, I just can’t recite them all, But here are just a few, I think you’ll see she was a ball! She could pull her winter sled, with red-cheeked kids aboard Or endear you with a look, that all of us adored. I would sleep out in her doghouse, and her bring bones from Mr. Burke. We would chase her ‘round the basement, when winter storms would lurk. She would nose a sea-green skillet in the window well for us, To let us know she’s hungry, and to come and fill it up! I’m glad I had the privilege, to tussle with Argen. She gave a million smiles then, as now I smile again. I’m glad God gave this Newfoundland, to be our pet of choice She spoke in countless ways and would always heed our voice. There is something to the notion, that a dog is man’s best friend. I must concur and plainly state, for me… it was Argen. While each of us hold memories of what we loved the most, I go back to days of great forays, in a rusty orange coat.