When the walks have been had, the bath’s been bathed, the food’s been eaten and the bed is made.

Around the hour of three. There is the most grand sight to see, or at least seems to be.

Dirty paws, or hairy feet, are wriggling madly, deep in sleep.

But where do these day dream dogs go? when the afternoon is thick with dreaming slow,

Do they dream of bounding, great journeys of hounding, among long grasses, dancing or standing.

Do they dream of sausage stands, toasting cheese sandwiches and roasting hams. Great trays of cakes and sweets, all for hungry dogs to eat.

Do they sleep in sleep, dream in dreams and sing songs to the moonlight, in those dreams of dreams?

All they wished to tell, if only we could hear them yell. But sadly we only hear parts, great growls woofs and barks.

So we thought it would always be, until we met our sweet Rory.