You started life as the runt of the litter
but it was clear that you were no quitter.
You were quite bolshy, big and bold,
and stood up to the others, so I’m told.
And when you came to live with me
you were the first to break free.
When you ran off with my door stop, I could tell
you would be a madam, my Jezebel.
And so you were named, and turned into a star,
and wherever you went people would admire.
You definitely were the belle of the ball,
I think it was agreed by one and all.
I would sing to you a special song
when we were alone as we walked along:
“La bella Jezabella, so beautiful to see,
la bella Jezabella, come along and walk with me.”
But mischief should have been your middle name
and you always have remained the same.
You gave me hassle most of your days
but you were so endearing in other ways.
I remember the times we would walk through the wood
You’d lead the way as I knew you should
Your sister would follow you, sniffing your scent,
always finding the pathway where you went.
But now you’re gone, as I walk through those trees
all I have left are my memories:
some photos of you, a bag of your hair,
and chunks out of my table and chair.
“La bella Jezabella” was sung to the tune of “La bella senorita” from some opera or other I can’t remember probably Carmen