Come the day I take that final bend,
Can I count on you to be my friend?
To see I'm treated just and fair,
It means so much to know you care.
For, what the future holds in store,
Now that I can race no more,
Should be addressed for every hound,
Who parts the punter from his pound.
Tell them I don't ask for much,
A kindly word, a gentle touch,
Somewhere warm to lay my head,
A meal each day to keep me fed,
Not just life- but quality,
This is how it aught to be.
Do not see me swept away,
I long to live another day,
With peace of mind, tranquillity,
And those who care surrounding me,
So tell them all- you have that choice,
I beg of you to be my voice.
By Denise Dubarbier.