There’s a funny looking stick
in the middle of the yard
that wasn’t there yesterday.
It reminds me of something
I’d rather forget,
so I think I’m gonna throw it away.
The very next morning,
the stick is still there,
and the dog is chewing away.
Happier than he’s been in a while,
so I’m faced with the truth, I’m afraid.
But, it just can’t be
what I think it is.
It’s about the right length,
and it’s round on the ends.
White and brown,
from the dirt where it’s been.
I just can’t admit that it’s him.
Because, I buried that bastard
about ten foot deep.
Six months since,
and never lost a wink of sleep.
Now. I’m sitting here,
wondering how far down
did that little dog dig?
He just lays there wagging,
chewing on that bone.
Got me wondering how many
my little dog’s brought home?
I guess I just might never know,
unless the law comes around.
I just hope that the rest of him
is still in the ground.
He was mean,
he was sick,
he would beat me with a stick,
until I got out the gun,
his tune changed real quick.
I put three bullets in him,
and never missed a lick.
Then, I put his mean ass
as deep as he’d fit.
Deep as I could dig,
but I guess not deep enough.
‘Cause I’m watching my
little white dog named, “Gus”,
just gnawing away,
with a smile and a wag.
Guess I’ll have to go
and get a garbage bag.
Sorry Gus,
but I gotta get rid of that thing.
Who knows what kind of trouble
it could bring.
HG – 2020
