Their once was a Rottweiler named ‘Sid’
A pure-hearted dog
With the heart of a kid
When he’d make his rounds
He’d put on that sad and lonely frown of his
You could hear his plea
As if to say
‘What about meeee?Aawwwe’
As he sat by the back door
And begged for just a little more
But not too much
He’d get a few pieces meant for the table
A scratch behind the ears
And pat on his fat back
Then he’d be off again
Places to go
To the next place
Wherever that was
He was the neighborhood bum
And we all sure enjoyed enabling that one
Man, that dog sure could eat.
Living in a kind of more rural area where your neighbor might be an acre or so away, most people had the habit of leaving their doors open. Doesn’t really make sense to lock anything when you spend most of your time outside anyway.
In the evenings, before the bugs came out, the top part of the door was usually open when dinner was being made. Last minute salads were picked from the garden throughout most of the year. Miss those Such a nice place.
Well, usually near dinner time, this big thug of a dog who could’ve probably afforded to loose a bit of that extra weight… Sid, he’d kind of slowly find his way up onto the back porch and stand there for a few minutes.
If no one was giving him any attention or at least pretending not to notice, he’d start to whine a little, kind of lettin’ folks know that he was stopping by and would sure appreciate one of them special dog biscuits we’d somehow not forgotten to picked up just for him.
Nobody really remembers when he first started showing up. We never really knew where he lived. And it’s not like he wasn’t well fed. He was kind of known for making the rounds in a way that made you smile when he came by. He’d hang out for just a little while, long enough to charm his way into your heart for those few scraps of whatever you might not really need.
No, never did figure out where he lived.
But we know where he died.
There was a school not too far away where people really should have been minding the speed limit when they drove by. No matter how big those yellow signs were, people just couldn’t slow down.
Funny thing about Sid, he wasn’t shy about holding up traffic even after he’d left a dent or two.
Word was, someone heard another screech from the wheels of a pickup truck that really should have been going a hell of a lot slower. Instead of the usual follow up of profanity, that final day, the skid marks were punctuated with a pretty solid thud.
Yeah, Sid was a good dog.
Remembering him still brings back a smile.