The day my dogs I chose
I was all in a riot
An empty stomach was my diet
Our home was full of disquiet
My dogs were sweet, dare I deny it?

They are still now and quiet
Where the red fern grows.

My grief on me bestows
A sense of failed endeavor
To save my dogs, so clever
I know I’d do whatever—
Now I will see them never!

Will they lie there forever,
Where the red fern grows?

When I think of how often I said she was a nuisance, how I complained about giving her walks, how many times I wished we’d never gotten a dog, I cry. She was so good. She was so sweet and never bad. Her name was Pepper—Peppercheanie actually, but for short, we called her Pepper. She was speckled with brown on top of a white background of fur. Her whole head was plain brown, and smooth. Her ears were the softest and silkiest ears I have ever felt. And her eyes. They looked up at you in their sad way, sweet and sad and almost sorry. We loved her—I still do.

I shall miss your utter stupidity,
even though it used to annoy,
I shall miss you living under my bed,
even though you chewed up my toys

You made me feel safe,
and hid during thunder,
You jumped on my bed,
and messed up my covers

You smelled and you shed,
you barked constantly,
you tore up the carpet,
(who cares, it was ugly)

You were a nanny,
a wolf, and a babysitter,
a reindeer, a horse--
(a real derby winner)