Saint

I am in tears, while carrying you to your last resting place as much as I rejoiced when bringing you home in my own hands fifteen years ago

Now, Patrice, you will no longer give me a thousand kisses, nor will you be able to lie affectionately round my neck. 

You were a good dog, and in sorrow I have placed you in a marble tomb, and I have united you forever to myself when I die. 

You readily matched a human with your clever ways; alas, what a pet we have lost! 

You, sweet Patrice, were in the habit of joining us at table and fawningly asking for food in our lap, 

You were accustomed to lick with your greedy tongue the cup which my hands often held for you 

And often welcomed your tired master with wagging tail