A poem about Bruce, a Guide Dog puppy I walked for his first year in 1999.

First time puppy walker

She brought the Andrex puppy to our door,
A Guide dog collar round his neck he wore,
Only six weeks old, and full of chewing life,
Which, very soon, caused a little family strife!

The needle-sharp teeth of Bruce were a curse,
But others told us it could have been worse,
He chewed up pieces of plastic and wood,
But with the furniture he was very good!

I trained him on lead the following year,
Had to coax him along, when he sat on his rear,
Then he started to pull me, full of his daring,
On the arm muscles, it was very wearing!
But with commands, gentle tugs, the lead kept slack,
In time the puppy learned to to keep well back.

"Busy!" the important word of command,
To do his business only on my land,
Not in public, which would be a disaster,
When Bruce teams up with his new, blind master.

Whistle before feed-time, and do it right,
Bruce is drawn by his appetite,
He always comes back when his whistle you blow,
Wherever you are, wherever you go.

More basic training till the the year is up,
Time to go back, he's no longer a pup,
It's not like having a human son,
This dog will be happy with anyone!
( Or so I hope!) - but it's a sad day,
The supervisor comes, from the GDBA.

Would you like to walk a puppy, too?
Friends can be made, but if you ever do,
He has his pathway, has to go,
We'll meet again, across the Rainbow.