These Pets Funny poems are examples of Funny poems about Pets. These are the best examples of Pets Funny poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
I have a cat
A real fat cat
My cat is all black
My black fat cat
It is a cat with a knack
A true fact about my cat
My fat black cat
She has a knack to catch a rat
My all black cat brought me the rat
This is why my cat is a fat black cat
So rats watch your back
From my cat with the knack
Or you will become a snack for my fat black cat
Lounging licking leaping
Prancing pouncing peeking
Corners closets crouching
Tail twirling twitching
Sniffing sensing sneezing
Hissing huffing hunting
Pretty purring preening
Curiosity kitty killing
Nine long lives living
Sometimes I catch them easily,
The words I'm reaching for;
At other times watch helplessly
As they crash to the floor.
I try to reassemble but
They've landed in a jumble.
I grab too fast for floaters and
My chair and I both tumble.
Susie thinks it is hilarious
And joins into the fun.
Before she hears my "stop", she has
Already swallowed one.
I am truly very sorry
There are no poems from me.
You will know why when I tell you
My dog ate my poetry.
Won 3rd place
A dog! A panic in a pagoda!
Rex sneaked in with a can of cream soda,
he shook it up hard and then pulled the tab.
But Rex was too slow for their choc'late lab.
Cain: a maniac, the brown dog's head swelled,
confused by the fizz but a rat he had smelled.
He was a god's dog, ergo, a ogre -
mighty fine watchdog, well-trained at Kroger.
Schooled in their stockroom with all kinds of nuts
whose tricks won ribbons for all kinds of mutts.
Cain's radar kicked in, went straight for the can
and turned it on Rex who lost his game plan.
On the way out, he offered some Kleenex.
No one's the wiser, except maybe Rex.
Recording the facts, Cain writes in his log,
Was it a rat I saw? or Am I a dog?
A dog, a panic in a pagoda
Cain, a maniac
ergo, a orgre
Was it a rat I saw
At the risk of being called “rabble-rouser,”
I think poor old Barky Von Schnauzer,
should practice his aim,
his master to maim,
in the back end of his very best trousers!
My hero I would call dear old Barky,
if he could just muster the stealth of a sharky,
and covertly steer,
right straight for the rear,
of that great big old bag of malarkey!
I think I should send Barky a big four leaf clover,
so his bad luck would finally be over,
he could retire his fame,
move away, change his name,
to Bowser maybe Lassie or Rover!
Obviously I have been driven completely insane by that stupid t.v. commercial!
Happy St. Paddy's Day!
I opened the door,
Saw two nice mice,
At Pete's Pet Store;
For a very good price.
I bought them that day,
With money I had saved,
Raking and hauling hay;
For my neighbor, Mr. Dave.
I purchased a bowl,
Just for their food,
And a bottle with a hole;
For drinking water through.
I named one Ice,
He had clear blue eyes,
The other, I named Spice;
He was the smallest in size.
Ice would take small bites,
Of cheese and treats of rice,
Spice made noise at night;
Munching bread - I had sliced.
I'll never forget the day,
Mom said, "Look Price!"
And lying in their hay;
Were two bald baby mice.
"Why," thought the cat,
"can I see through the glass,
but when I try to go through it,
it won't let me pass?"
"There are bugs out there,"
the cat thought to himself,
"yet to them, I'm as dull as
a book on a shelf!"
The cat shook his head,
"This is really too much!
There's two squirrels in the yard
and a bird in the brush."
"How much fun it would be,"
with a mew he announced,
"to hunt and to stalk and then
"Why, I'd shake them until
their necks were broke!
Maybe then," mused the cat,
"I'd be more than a joke."
"They'd be amazed by my prowess,"
he thought with a sigh,
"I'd torture them slowly and
they'd wonder why,"
"they never realized that
I was a threat,
while completely ignoring me
like I was their pet."
"I'd show them," he growled
as he laid on the sill,
"with them in my tummy,
I'd savor the kill."
"They'd show some respect,"
he thought with a yawn,
"I'd shown them who's king
of this yard and this lawn."
Head full of adventure,
he fell fast asleep,
safe in his house,
with plenty to eat.
There once was a hunter named Frawley
Who lived in a shack, outside Raleigh.
His dog, funny but true,
Would only hunt honeydew.
The dog was a true melon collie.
If you are plagued with dragons in your basement,
And you have tried, without success, to drive them out.
If you need advice and dragon information,
That's what this short discourse is all about.
Now, you can't depend on pest exterminators,
Unless, perhaps, you call Saint George himself,
And pied pipers are of very little value,
As all dragons are notoriously tone deaf.
Since the riddance of house dragons is a hassle
That you might not be prepared to suffer through,
You might find compromise and coexistence
Is the sensiblest thing that you can do.
The rumor that all dragons are ferocious,
Is a rumor we could not substantiate.
As to whether they are prone to making mischief,
Its a subject that's still open to debate.
Some say dragons are quite friendly creatures.
Why, I've heard that they make gentle, loving pets,
And it's said that if one treats them with affection,
The great, scaly fellows never will forget.
But if you choose a dragon as a house pet,
Your fire insurance rates are sure to soar,
Unless you teach your dragon not to hiccup,
And to breathe into the furnace when he snores.
On the feeding of domesticated dragons
(We have saved this information till the end):
They feed mainly on bad dreams and mustang nightmares,
And a local politician now and then.
My son and his family drove down from the big city,
out to the countryside with open fields and steams.
They brought their standard golden poodle along,
a curly-haired fellow, name of Timmy.
Timmy had never seen a cat;
not even a mole or a furry rat.
Visiting country kin, he was checking things out.
Everything went fine that very first day.
Cats went about paying him no mind.
He walked about just passing time.
On that second day there was a big mistake.
Being a city dog with more worldy ways,
to add pleasure to his hum-drum days,
he thought it time to befriend these country kin.
The cats had never seen a dog this small,
only those on stilts, big, long and tall,
like Pyrenees, big wide mouths and teeth to match.
With barking big dogs on the scene,
up a tree they squirreled, never to be seen.
But this golden-haired fellow, with city clout--
they’d give him benefit of instinctive doubt.
Mama cat was even so bold
to sniff this city slicker right on the nose.
Sizing him up all the while, a friendly rat, she surmised,
a might bigger than some she had seen,
playing cat and mouse, yet acting so coy;
that is, until that overgrown golden-haired rat
walked up to Mama’s black baby boy.
Mama’s two other sons, another black and a blue,
began to gather nearer this city dweller, too.
Timmy politely extended his nose.
black son cat extended his razor-sharp claws,
with a bristled tail and fierce hissing jaws.
Timmy let out with a painful yelp,
as Mama cat called all boys in for help.
Cats surrounded and gave chase to the dog,
life-fearing circles around the cedar tree he’d log;
four hissing cats hot on his tail,
poor Timmy yelping in a desperate wail.
The master of Timmy gave rescue,
but Mama cat and her three grown sons,
strutting in pride, putting a dog on the run.
Written by: Carolyn Henderson
For Constance LaFrance's Cat Poem Contest
Won 9th Place