I'm a lean dog, a keen dog,
a wild dog, and lone;
I'm a rough dog, a tough dog,
hunting on my own;
I'm a bad dog, a mad dog,
teasing silly sheep;
I love to site and bay the moon
to keep fat souls from sleep.
--Irene Macleod
This poem capture's Benny's spirit perfectly...most dogs are good little dogs with a bad streak, Benny was a bad little dog with a good streak. Luckily, he showed that good streak often enough for us to love him. He had so much potential, maybe too much. His death was unnecessary and a waste, and we miss him still.
