You’re a Minnesota Dog Now

words and music ©1974 by Howard Ashby Kranz

Rex was always my dog in the Colorado hills

That is what I thought he’d always be.

But when he saw the lakeland, he went bolting like the breeze

I saw that his life don’t belong to me.

You’re a Minnesota dog now,

like that cold north wind that fills my heart and it cuts me like a plow.

When you get back to the Rockies, won’t you give my door a scratch;

you’ve got two homes now, and one’s the one where I hold the latch.

You just stood there laughing, and you took me by the hand.

We watched as Rexie swam the skyblue stream.

He drank the Mississippi, and he chased a firefly

and things were real to him that I just dreamed.

He’s a Minnesota dog now,

like that cold north wind that fills my heart and it cuts me like a plow.

When you get back to the Rockies, won’t you give my door a scratch;

you’ve got two homes now, and one’s the one where I hold the latch.

We had to go two ways; Rex could only follow one.

When we shook hands, he begged me not to cling.

He said, “We live so few lives, that you have to be a fool

to waste a whole one being just one thing.”

And he’s a Minnesota dog now,

like that cold north wind that fills my heart and it cuts me like a plow.

When you get back to the Rockies, you don’t even have to knock;

you’ve got two keys now, and home’s where either one fits the lock..