I worry when he's not feeling well
And not eating all his food.
He's not his happy frisky self
And he's in a sleepy mood.
I fuss and cater to his whims
Because he's getting on in years.
I hope when I get to be his age.
Someone will scratch behind my ears.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Marvelous, it made me smile! Great rhythm, great rhyme, great poem!