Little Doc was three months old the day we brought him home.
Whimpering and whining he was scared to be alone.
Long , silky ears and big, brown eyes, he was a handsome little mut.
Felt like patting my own back for such a likely looking pup.
In the evening always took him out and let him play around.
There never was a minute his nose wasn’t on the ground,
A sniffing and a snuffing every thing that came along.
Kinda fun to watch learning what was right and what was wrong.
Run him with the neighbor’s dog to help him learn his trade.
My hat was mighty tight the day he put Fanny in the shade.
Hunted him and worked him. Always tried to treat him kind.
Sure, we pulled a lot of boners, but that made no never mind.
Seems as though he understood just what he had to do.
Never let him get an idea we wouldn’t see him through.
Man, it’s sport to hear him coming through the underbrush and swale
Bellering and bugling on a smoking rabbit trail.
Something stirs you deep inside, makes you tingle to your toes,
When you stretch your neck and strain your eyes to see which way he goes,
And it makes that fatal hop out in your open spot
You could hardly miss him if you was only half a shot.
Little Doc comes bouncing in and pins him on the ground.
He’s got a barrel of rabbit savvy, now he knows his way around.
Some folks, they sorta snicker when I tell them what he’s worth.
They think the mighty dollar can buy anything on earth.
He was not for sale at any price. I will keep him to the end.
For what’s the good of money if you’re going to lose a friend?
A friends your pard, he goes along, he sticks from a-z,
Always wades his share of brush and thorns, and that’s good enough for me.
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