The Woof of Honour

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 Today I met Scooby-Doo (named so by me)

Dry blood still lingering on one ear,

His scars had stories to tell, if you'd hear.

His heart seemed to pace, his lungs in a race, 

So still and calm, giving company to a lonely stranger.. 

He was comforted by the familiarity, no harm or danger. 

Guarding, guiding, playful mate.. 

You wouldn't dare to tease his temper.

With a tiny claw on the edge of each soft paw, 

He could rip anything into bone and tender..

I wonder if it was the same soul that fought for food and honour. 

°•°


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