I thought I saw a piece of chocolate on the ground
"That's poop, no doubt" said my good old hound
When he was a little 4 month old puppy, abandoned, he lay in a dirt mound
My little Winnie, in a white plastic bag, with unimaginable cruelty was he bound
If it wasn't for his plea, if it wasn't for that extraordinary sound
The words "Help me" would have been lost, in the city hubbub, they'd have drowned
A happy day that was, for a forever home Winnie finally found
I named him so, because he won our hearts, and was thus rightly crowned
Talking dog or not, I couldn't have imagined a cooler, more loving family member around
His best talent, however, went beyond his vocab, it's the speed at which food he downed
After fourteen years of gorging mouthfuls of meat by the pound
I trust his sense of smell and walk past that chocolate coloured poop, during our breezy afternoon round
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