Duke

Ol’ Duke wasn’t much to look at. Big ol’ mutt with mismatched ears and a limp from an old injury, but he was the finest dog I ever knew. I found him out by the county road, limping along. Tossed a bit of a sausage out the window and he followed me home. Been with me ever since. He was calm and steady. He’d sit with me every dinner time. Didn’t say much, obviously but he was good company. Better than most folks. He was a bit of a ratter. Knew exactly how to flush them out and see them off. But even after he couldn’t run no more, he still followed me to the barn every morning. Just slower. I found him peaceful, like he just went to sleep. Haven’t cried like that since my brother died. I planted one over his grave. It lovely to watch it grow. S'long pal.