My Mate Barney

I picked him up in Mudgee, he was only six weeks old.

10 pups in the litter, a squirming fluffy fold.

How to choose from the throng of faces pleading me to see?

Nine laid down in the heat of the day, but one danced at my knee.


I gave him the name of Barney . . . I chose it years before.

He was what I had imagined, would be my dog for sure.

His tongue was always panting and his tail was always wagging

His coat was black and wiry . . . my brushing always lagging.

Barney slotted in so fast with the family he adopted.

And we were also just as thrilled, that we had been co-opted.

He loved the world and the world loved him

He conquered dog-haters with his big fetching grin.

He lived in my shadow, in shade house or beach house

Were I on some bush trip he would stand with my spouse.

She felt quite deserted – if to the mountains I fled

It was then that he slept on the spare double bed!

I started a website, with not much ability

I needed a fall guy to mask my senility.

An excuse to explain the failures ahead of me

So poor bloody Barney got his own identity!

Then I got dumped by those on the mail list

They addressed correspondence to my canine protagonist!

They still do it today  . . . he is now gone a year

As for Rock Lily Man; he managed his fear.

To attack by myself all the new technology

No one stood with me to share the fragility.

No one to blame when the email went wrong

I now stand alone . . . I have learnt to be strong.

Barney fell ill and I sent him to Heaven

It was his reward on November Eleven.

The Sea Wall at Harrington was our favourite place

For years we explored from our nautical base.

I still miss the mongrel, but I have passed the worst

Each dog has its day, Barneys not the first.

My day will come too, when Heaven will call . . .

. . . When again we will romp down the Harrington Wall.

Gerry Walsh – 2015