Jim Carruth, Glasgow's new poet laureate, comes from a dairy-farming background in Renfrewshire.

His latest collection, Prodigal (Mariscat, £6), is dedicated to his mother Margaret but this poem concerns his father.

OLD COLLIE

While milking together

my father shouts across the parlour

an idea for my next poem

How about a working collie -

one that's on its last legs?

I tell him it has been done before.

Unwilling to chase this sentimental stick,

I leave it well alone,

turn away, but feel it lying there

becoming hair and bone

crouching low, resting its arthritic frame

flecked muzzle flat on its front paws.

Lifting itself slowly to its feet

it sniffs out the few short steps to my father

where we both knew it was bound to go.