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Narrative Dog Poems | Narrative Poems About Dog

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The Dog and the Rabbit

The dog seen a rabbit and how he did chase
to catch that little critter and boy what a race

But one thing that rabbit knew as he ran away
he was not going to be lunch for that dog today

Around the tree and  into the bushes he went
the dog was right after that little rabbit's scent

the dog was so busy that he never did see
that big old  hornet nest  way up in the tree

running and barking and making a sound
made all the hornets start buzzing around

They all made a dive and together they flew
when they  hit the dog he knew he was through

He made up his mind right there and then
he would never go chasing that rabbit again

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A Doggy Afternoon

Narrator:  I take you now inside the mind of a ten year old miniature Eskimo dog who
 lives happily inside a Rambler house with a fenced back yard that serves as his special 
area to periodically run freely when his “favorite person”(Love) puts him out, always 
shouting “go pee!” to him. Strangely, Ollyver does not really seem to understand that 
command. Perhaps to him it means “go play” since often he is later caught inside the 
house in compromising positions, causing his owner to rush him again to the door to 
the back yard!

Furthermore, new computer technology has enabled Ollyver’s owner (his “Love”) 
to come up with a crude translation for Ollyver’s stream of thoughts. She knows his behavior the best, but still she must guess at a few things inside his brain due to his limited range of vocabulary and his typical doggy unconcern with that ! So now she has just let Ollyver out the back porch to go pee. . . 

Ollyver:  I go out! I go out! Run run run . . . Run here. . . Run there. . . Strange man 
by fence. . .  I can’t get to strange man. What you doing by my yard? Leave here leave here leave here. . .  yip yip yip yip yip yip yip. . . . .

Owner’s voice from the porch: Go pee, Ollyver!!!

Ollyver:  always “go pee” she say. . . Look look at me. . . I go pee . . . run here . . . 
run there. . . (Ollyver continues running back and forth yelping at the stranger who 
has since gotten past the fence as he walks along the canal road) I go pee I go pee. . . 

Narrator: Ollyver runs back to the house, never having actually gone pee. He runs to 
sit by his owner, whom he perceives as his favorite human. She is eating a bowl of ice 
cream on the bed. 

Ollyver:  I go in. . . see  yum-yum milk. . . I want I want I want 

Narrator: Ollyver goes toward the bowl and gets pushed away, so he stares with big 
anxious eyes going back and forth to Love and the bowl of yum-yum. 

Ollyver: I want I want I want. . . Give me give me give me. . . Ohhhhh. . .  Yum-yum  
getting smaller and smaller. . . Ohhhhhhhhh

Narrator:  Ollyver’s Love pats his head and lets him lick what remains at the bottom of the bowl. After he finishes, he snuggles by Love and beings to lick her hand and arm.

Ollyver: kiss kiss kiss kiss. . . Love Love Love

Narrator: Suddenly the door bell rings, and he dashes off the bed to the front door 
with his Love following behind him, yelling: “No Ollyver!” He peers through the window and sees a stranger.

Ollyver:  yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip go away strange lady go away strange lady 
go away strange lady yip yip yip yip yip yip yip. . .. 

Narrator:  The door bell rings again and Ollyver runs to his favorite corner of the family 
room, where he begins to do the very thing his owner had wanted him to do previously 
when she let him out into the back yard. Her voice yells shrilly “No, Ollyver” and she 
shoves him to the back door saying: “OUT here, Ollyver. Go pee out HERE.”  Ollyver 
then runs across the yard going back and forth, back and forth.

Ollyver: see see see, Love. . . I go pee I go pee

**For the contest of  Just That Archaic Poet:This is my personification of Ollyver, the pet that gave me the greatest unconditional love of any pet I ever owned. Because we could never train him (I even hired a trainer to help us) and because of other complications, I had to give him up when he was around ten years old. I missed  him so much. and even my cat, Razzmatazz cannot replace him for pure affection. I gave him to a place that promised a no-kill policy and to this day, I am hoping he had a great life until the end!

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Bright yellow, green and blue
Are some colours to name a few.
And in their daub or scroll compete compare
To the carnival’s lively and zany air.
Powdered faces pale announce
A disregard (of) or speak to superficial self,
As buzzing rides revolve and reel,
While the spielers project & create (their feel)
To sweet smelling grass in the down-trodden field.
See the open mouthed and blank-eyes clowns,
With heads that left to right, will turn half round..
When pretty Katie passes by,(Vivacious child in navy dress,)
Honey skin and teeth chalk white, under coiffure'd tress.
Within her hand from Daddy's passed 
A pink balloon all helium gassed,
while In the other hand is pressed 
An icy pole half past its best.
A stray dog, with darting chocolate eyes 
Espies the treat and makes a try,
Now poor Katie covers her face and cries,
As her air balloon makes its maiden ride  
Over the hot dog stall it goes' as Katie screams on tippy toes
While Rover wolfs his stolen delight,
Oblivious to the toddler’s plight.
Up…up into the atmosphere; and then a sudden rush of air,
It to the big wheel sends, from there, 
Where a wild-eyed lad with hair like straw
Fixes it fast; in a gangly paw,
But Daddy sees it all transpire, and scooping up Katie heads that way,
As Daddies will to save the day.

(ammended 19 04 2011)
© Joe Maverick 10-12-2010

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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

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I'll Never Understand Humans

                    I’ll Never Understand Humans   

   Hi, My name is Lady, and I live a dogs life, yes I’m a lazy mutt, but, 
before you go getting the wrong idea, I’m integral in the well being of
family. My main interests are feeding time, walkies,sniffing dog poo, feeding time,
rolling in dog poo and feeding time,believe me, I earn my living here.
  I’m the family entertainer, the kids dress me in silly clothes, yes I know,
humiliating, but I enjoy the happiness and laughter it brings them, I do my party 
pieces for visitors, the begging with the outstretched paw, the standing on the hind
legs and hopping, the rolling over, I don’tmind the rolling over, I just imagine I’m 
rolling in dog poo,and I’m no fool, I expect reward for my efforts, I call that tidbits
feeding time.
   Then I just laze and wait for my master to come home, pah, how that sticks in the
throat, but I play the part with a big welcome, ass wobble, tail waggle, bounce about,
he seems toappreciate all this, maybe coz nobody else bothers lol.  Soon I know it 
will be feeding time and walkies and more dog poo sniffing, well, it’s nice to know
who’s been about. Hey get this, when I do a poo he picks it up, I could understand
if he rolled in it, but picking it up, what’s that all about?
  He’s not always been happy with me though, the time he gave me that lovely
warm blanket when I was a pup, and I ate it, and the big fight I had with that
horrid black dog up the street, he only saw the end of that encounter, he missed
the part where the brute tried to rape me, it was self defence I tells yer. He’d have
witnessed the whole incident if he hadn’t been chatting to that blonde bint with 
the obedient German Shepherd, you know the sort, sits there close to his mistress 
looking all haughty and dignified, while I’m sniffing her bottom, never did care for 
that dog, or his poo come to that.
   The best though, was that holiday in Essex, when he insisted on taking me on this 
humongous walk in the footsteps of John Constable, talk about booooring, till on our
way back we crossed a field that had just been slurried, ooooh I smelled so gorgeous,
I was in doggie heaven, he was somewhere between mad and a funny vivid colour,
but we got over it. Sometimes I look into those big sad eyes of his and wonder just 
what’s going on in there. Guess what though; for all his faults, I don’t think anybody 
loves him more than I do. Oooo, someone is opening a candy bar, tidbits feeding time.
 See yer ………

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He stood and aimlessly watched the parade of patrons and volunteers that wandered daily past his kennel.  All so familiar, so ordinary.  Just like every other day he mused.  Nothing new.  Nothing special.

Moving to the small crumpled blanket near the back of his cage, he turned several times and finally curled up, head on his paws, positioned so that he could watch the activity around him.  But in reality, he was bored.  It had been a long time since he had met each morning with anticipation.  Too many days.   Too much disappointment.  He would leave all that barking and racing to the front of  their cage to the younger pups who hadn’t figured out yet that the cute ones went first.  It didn’t really make any difference what you did to attract attention if you weren’t young or cute, or both.

Too much time had gone by to participate in the charade.  In reality, Walter had seen a lot of people that he would rather not spend a lot of time with.  You know the type.  Kind of hyper, bouncing from stray to stray, looking for a perfect dog.  Kids poking their fingers  through the kennel screen or banging on it.  Some even making barking sounds.  He didn’t need any of that and was glad when they were gone.

Walter was very picky.  Set in his ways after so many years.  He had had it good for  a long time.  An only dog in a household of two people that let him be himself.  No tricks. No stunts.  Just long naps and daily walks.  A yard to himself to reflect on what was for dinner.  He had been fond of his doggy bed in their bedroom.  Each night he would help his owner walk through the house turning off the lights and checking the doors before they climbed the stairs together.  And there was always one last good night pat before settling down.

But those days were gone now.  First one had become ill and went to the hospital and never came back.  The other one changed overnight, spending long days, sitting mostly.  The walks became less frequent.  Walter did what he could.   He could see it in their eyes that they were hurting from their loss. He would make a point of laying his head in their lap, trying to let them know that he missed them too.  At times like this, he instinctively knew that although it remained unsaid, they only had each other.

He remembers well the day that his owner snapped a leash on him and said, “well Walter, I’m afraid we have to say goodbye.  I have to go to a place where they won’t let me keep you, so I am going to have to let you go.”  Walter could see the tears in his eyes.  He knew it would do him no good to whine or resist.  It was obvious there were no alternatives.  And besides, it would just make it harder on his owner.  But he was going to miss him.  It was not going to be easy to adjust.

But adjust he did.   He had been here a long time now and had seen countless pups and dogs  trot past his cage with light hearts and  new owners, heading off with new found hopes and expectations.  But it soon became obvious that there weren’t a lot of people that wanted an old yellow hound.  Everyone wanted the young ones.  So here he lay, dozing a bit, but still keeping an eye on those walking by, many giving him but a glance before moving on.

He heard them before the saw them.  ”Honey” the voice said.  ”That looks like Walter, old Mr. Whitney’s dog.”  Walters ears perked up a little.  ”Do I know them” he thought.  ”They seem to know me”.  I’d better go take a closer look” and with that, he stood and slowly ambled toward his kennel gate, giving a cautious wag of his tail.

“It is him” the man said.  ”Walter, how you doing boy?  Do you remember me?”

And upon closer inspection, Walter did remember him.  He used to live right across the street.  He would see him in his yard and if Walter were to ramble over, he usually had a dog treat in his pocket.  With the recognition, Walter gave a little stronger wag and moved toward the fingers extended through the fencing.  It was good to see an old friend.

“What do you say hon” the man said.  ”How would you feel about bringing Walter home with us?”

Walter looked at the woman and saw her nod in agreement.  ”You wait here and I’ll go find a volunteer.”

The man bent down and said “What do you think Walter?  Would you like to go home with us?”

Actually, Walter decided, he could think of nothing he would like more.  A chance to go back to the old neighborhood with people he already knew.  What was there not to like.

Soon the woman returned and the gate opened.  A leash was snapped on Walter and together they proceeded past the rows of dogs and puppies, all vying for their attention.  Walter couldn't help but stand a little straighter, stepping a little more lightly, showing off.  ”This is what going home looks like guys.” he thought.  ”Good luck and goodbye”.

As they neared the car the man said “I can’t believe we found you Walter.  There is someone I am going to take you to see.  I can’t wait to see the expression on his face when you walk in his room>”

Walter, of course, knew exactly who he was talking about.  And he couldn't wait to see the expression on his face either.

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Noises in the Night

One cold night, deep in thought, and curled in fright,
From folklore tales aimed to scare;
My rigid poise froze to a screeching noise
Outside, a voice not like I've heard before, to leave I would not dare
“It’s probably just an owl or creature of the night out there"
I muttered to myself, then pretended not to care

Oh, I recall quite vividly this icy Winter’s night
With grainy sight, the sandman came to lead me to his land
The weariness I fought but eventually he caught
Pulling me quite taut to somewhere far less bland   
Where I became the leader of a marvellous brass band
And down that path sandman tightly gripped me by my hand

Trumpeters and trombone players played musically in layers
Exciting each and everyone, spreading joy to all around
But my dreams were playing tricks, my mind was in a mix
The bass tuba sounded sick, not playing tuneful sounds
Instead a grating shrill, then the whining of a hound
The lightning and the rain came too, my dream then ran aground           

Alone I grew more frightened and the intensity just heightened
The shrieks and shrills grew louder with an occasional thunder clap
Taking sanctuary under bed sheets, preying for melodic sound beats   
Suffering this painful feat, my soul took a massive slap
Oh how I longed for it to stop and to return me to my nap
The bleakness of that night, my mind caught in a trap

Morning later broke, the ground outside was soaked
The noise had faded but there was still a haunting in my ears
A crunch, a grind, a squeak a whine
The cause I vowed to find, and to take away my fears
From the upstairs window I saw a farmer crouched in tears
And a windmill's broken sails; the mystery closure neared

Across the muddy field, I approached the man kneeled
Sobbing over what appeared to be a dead Alsatian
He'd found it just lying there, the hound, his best friend 
Downed by a falling windmill piece, killing gods creation
"A slow death" the farmer said "he must have cried out for attention"
"And my mill cranks broken causing noises of a nauseating sensation"

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The Visit

I visited you today,
At that place where you lay.
I placed flowers and a picture of you and me at your cold headstone.
As I was leaving, the wind picked up,
Throwing my hair in my tear-filled eyes,
That soon streamed down my face,
I tried to t hold them back,
Soon gave up on that.

I am not who I used to me,
I died along time ago, when you had to pass,
With one lingering question.....
Where is the "good" in this "goodbye?" 

I visited you today,
And cried, fighting the tears back.
Trying to figure what good comes from goodbye....

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life choices

the father sees a neighbor
screaming with child as she runs
out the front door to shelter
he hustles his own to shelter
and turns to see other neighbors
with their two dogs come running behind

the shelter's too small to hold everyone,
the father says climb in but we can't fit the dogs 
the neighbors hesitate - then pull the dogs
back to their house as father shuts shelter door

in a few seconds jets and trains and 
bombs overhead shiver into steel and 
time stops or stretches to infinity
as flotsam shoots through cracks

father opens shelter door sure he will 
witness haunting fears he knows
and runs to the pile that was 
minutes ago, the neighbors house

throwing pieces of piles aside
he digs to the small space that 
two hundred and ten miles per hour
had enclosed to free friends and dogs

both men shudder at their fortunes
the father, immensely glad to not 
have to bear witness and grief,
the owner, who couldn't 
do that to his beloved dogs

© Goode Guy 2013-12-26

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The Stray

There was a little dog one day,
Who ambled on his aimless way.
He didn't have a house or home:
A doggy bed or fine meat bone.

His coat was mats and full of fleas.
He owned no boy to try and please.
Near garbage bin was where he sat,
Along with one sad, homeless cat.

His human threw him out you see.
This person wasn't you or me.
For we would never be so cruel,
Or act like some poor, heartless fool.

The winter came and with it cold.
Dog's airy ways were put on hold.
He shivered in the dark of night:
A sad, pathetic, needy sight.

And then a storm blew in with snow.
It left dog with no place to go.
He sat and whined beside the road,
For someone kind to lift his load.

Then came a car -- slow passing by.
A young boy warm and loved inside.
He saw the freezing, half grown pup 
And begged they stop and pick him up.

The winter passed and next the spring.
Now please behold a wondrous thing.
A boy and dog romp on the grass.
All mats and fleas now in the past.

It's joy and love and fun we see. 
The way that God meant it should be.
Both run and play, all pain now past;
This bond of dog and boy shall last.

The sad thing is allotted time
Of man and dog will just not rhyme.
The boy will know sad loss of friend,
Long years before his own sure end.

Then in a time that's yet to be,
They'll reunite both young and free.
Forever will their bond go on,
In timeless sunsets, countless dawns.

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Did You Know Goldens Can Talk

When us dogs lie there and stare up at you What do you think we're thinking Are we thinking whatever you say I agree with Because you feed us every day without fail We don't have hands, these paws are useless For opening bags or cans Tried biting the lid off early last month Needed stitches, trouble eating for quite a while What! Are you surprised we know what a month is I'm not just your average pet you know I'M A GOLDEN RETRIEVER We're a special breed, just want all humans to know that Us guys should be treated like royalty We love everybody and don't mean to knock people down We get a little over excited at times Mean no harm, hoped your stay in the hospital Would be short and you'd come out as good as new Us dogs... sorry, us Goldens are a special breed We don't associate with other less sophisticated breeds Well, now that I've completely blown your mind Perhaps next time we talk you'll have recovered One thing before I go mute again It'll be enough when wifey finds out I can talk So I won't tell her about what I saw in the hospital About the way you were ogling dear nursey-poo For an extra bone and a sufficient amount of doggie treats I'll keep this OUR little ole secret WOOF! WOOF! © Jack Ellison 2014

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Rescue Dog

He seemed very much like those white dogs before,
With a raggedy coat, pointed ears and much more.
But the likeness soon ended to those dogs gone away.
For he'd never known kindness or love in his day.

He didn't know words, didn't even know stairs.
His nose, from the kennel, was chaffed of its hair.
Boredom was passed licking fur from his paws.
The pads on his feet bordered long, ragged claws.

He paced back and forth mostly all of each day:
Slept in a tight ball to keep cold nights away.
Wary of children and grown men alike: 
Startling sounds made him cringe out of sight.

He was hungry and thin: I could feel every bone.
He stayed by me like glue and was scared left alone.
He wolfed down his food in an uneasy rush.
He didn't know combs and felt fear of the brush.

But time has now passed since the dog came to stay
From that harsh, lonely kennel on a hill far away.
This little white dog now seems mostly like them:
Those former white terriers, my sweet, loyal friends.

He now spends his time . . like before . .  by my side.
But something has changed, for he's not there to hide.
With all of this good there is even much more.
He now plays with his toys and will ask for the door.

He eats with good manners, sleeps sound in his bed:
Stretched out in contentment, fun dreams in his head.
He loves his car outings and with each early spring,
Explores the old pathways our daily walk brings.

I'm so happy to have him, as he sits on my lap,
Or sleeps by my chair for his afternoon nap.
He never will know all of the bad things again.
His life will be happy with me as his friend.

Yet as good as it's been for this dog to find me.
To learn love and to trust and from anguish be free.
I too have been blessed one more time from above,
By Him sending another white dog here to love.

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A Messanger From Hell

I am sitting in my light brown leather reclining chair
after a strenuous day at my office glad to be home
no more stress no wife just my dog Bandit at my side
I'm holding in my right hand  my favorite relaxing drink
a single malt scotch on cracked ice with a twist of lemon

as I was about  to close my eyes just a little past seven
counting the blessings in my life from heaven
then out of the unexpected blue everything changed
never I mean never to be the same again
or maybe I was just going insane

out of the corner of my right eye
what I saw oh God what I saw was something that really 
scared the hell out of me 
as the hairs on the back of my neck stood straight up
and my flesh turned cold

a man dressed all in black and red
with a haunting evil look in his coal black eyes 
I believed he was from the dead
stepped right through a solid wall made of brick an stone
and stood there looking around the room

then looked right through me as though I wasn't there
my dog bandit backed up in fright and hid behind the chair
making noises like I never heard him make before
as my goose bumbled flesh turned cold as ice
I sat paralyzed could not move from my light brown leather reclining chair

then he smiled a shark like pointed toothy grin 
as he placed his gaze my way
and pointed a long gray boney finger right at me
the only sound that I could hear was the beating of my own heart
as though it was going to tare my chest apart

then he spoke in a low evil raspy voice and said
I'll be awaiting you on the other side

then he turned to leave the room
the way he entered by stepping right through a solid wall
made of brick an stone
now I sit here all alone wondering and shaking 
what the hell just happend to me

is there something in my life that I must change 
my life do I have to rearrange 
I do not want to meet that messenger from hell on the other side

this is not a tale I tell
for you may think I'm crazy as hell
but I believe in what I saw
I was visited by a messenger from hell

if there is a lesson to be learned from my story
look into your life and change what will make it right
to travel into the light 
to heaven not hell
when your time ends upon this earth

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An Ode For Zante

I had not long lost Shona (German Shepherd) and was not sure because of my age and disabilities  if I should get another when my daughter spotted an advert .
I thought long and hard and having always since the age of seven  had my own dog
I decided that there were ways around my disability. 

I went to the farm you were born on and met Matthew and your mum Lady.
Matthew suggested we met the 3 puppies left and take them down the fields so I could 
choose. He let you all out and we started off by the time we reached the gate Lady and two pups had run on ahead. I looked at Matthew who had not noticed and said I have be chosen he looked in surprise and said so you have.

Needless to say I took you home and thus began a wonderful relationship you were highly intelligent  I remember the first time you saw TV you were glued to the screen. We started obedience classes when you were 6 months old and soon you were in the top class. I quickly learnt when a new challenge or lesson was started to hang back and let you watch. Then when it was your turn you went out and did it nearly perfectly and always nailed it on your second attempt. 

You had a yellow squeaky dog toy that you liked to live just outside the door and you would nuzzle it  going in and out. One day my daughter said to me Zante thinks it her puppy doesn't  she I said yes, then my daughter told me she had thrown it for her and that  she went mental checking it was not hurt.

I knew you longed to be a mum so when you were two you went to a good dog and
in time produced nine fine puppies you were so happy and a wonderful mum. 
I with your agreement moved yellow squeaky dog to the kitchen window sill.

When the day came for them to go as each one left you lay crying softly by the back
gate and I joined you shedding my own tears.

Two years later after some notable wins in the ring by you and your daughter
Tanganyika you again became a mum to 8 fine pups. Tanganyika did not understand
why you growled and sent her away. You finally allowed her to meet them at around 
4 weeks. This time we kept two a dog and a b**ch, still we both cried when parting time came.

I did not know we were on borrowed time and that a year later at only six and half years you developed very aggressive cancer and faded in under 3 weeks I held you here at home while you tried to stand to say hello to the vet you could not get up, 
the cancer had sapped your strength. 

I cried buckets as we said good bye and you slipped of to peace and heaven
I buried you at home with your yellow squeaky dog that still squeaked and your
favourite blanket. There is an uncarved stone marking the spot in your favourite
corner of the garden.

I still miss you so much as does Tanganyika who went on the following spring on win 3rd at Cruft's 2010 you would have been so proud.

Zante you stole my heart and gave me a new leash on life You will always live 
in my heart YOU WERE THE BEST 2003 -2009

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The Duchess I Once Knew

She's pouring from a pot of tea
    as we relax on the quiet porch
Honeysuckle vines encircle the posts,
   and webs of daddy long-legs
      glisten in the afternoon light.
She nonchalantly chatters, telling me her stories...
                                as if they were ordinary tales
                                 which, of course, ..they are not.
Sailing across an ocean during dangerous wartime,
Living in exotic, but threatened tropics
A life of adventure, of hardship, of fear
Yet none of that revealed on her weathered face
 She smiles, cheeks rouged and eyes sparkling.

Inside the house, the counter is cluttered with dirty dishes
The floor is sticky, and dog hair floats in prisms of light
The old hound sleeps in the middle of the kitchen rug.
An older black lab is lapping up water from a brown dish
           dripping water from his sloppy face across the checkered floor.
Throughout the house, a lingering musky smell of well loved pets,
       and a stale, smokey odor of burnt toast from her attempt at breakfast.
Servants, cooks, gardeners, are now part of a long ago past.
The house is filled with dust covered, treasured belongings from yesterday.
  Piles of clutter everywhere.
       Junk mail, newspapers, dog treats,
                           documents and clippings
                                 prized antiques and artifacts

On shelves, and on the walls, are sepia-hued photographs
People of fame, others of family and friends...
I see my own family among them.

A handsome young man, and she, his bride.
He would become a General.
She would follow him to the ends of the earth.
Their life like a story that one would read in a novel.
I sit here now,...with this woman of many lives.
Sitting on her porch, she wears a tattered, splattered dress.
Today, she is a homespun, country widow.
An extraordinary woman, this grand Duchess,
          yet now who bears traits of Ma Kettle
She brought class, dignity, and a wealth of knowledge
           to our small country neighborhood,....... to my life.
Here we are, together, so far from the world she once knew.
We sit in the shade of her covered porch
A long haired, grey cat jumps into her lap.
Under the veil of a summer day
I pour her another cup of tea, and a little more for myself.
                                       Tea is served....I have much more to drink savor.

In memory of dear friends, most amazing people, who lived down our road ...      Aviation Pioneer

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A Dog Lover To The Nth Degree

Who would guess after all these years I'm a dog lover to the nth degree Owe it to our Golden we've named her Annie Sure won me over OOOOEEEE! Can't wait each morn for the wag of her tail She's badly in need of a pee Charging through the house, she waits at the door Her bladder's bursting I can see So I open the door and without missing a beat She bolts out and squats with a sigh In doggie language she thanks me profusely After breakfast she's duly satisfied She settles down for one of her many naps Has untold numbers through the day It's everything dogs do besides their doo-doo But sometimes they wanna play Don't wanna play fetch, what future's in that Rather chase each neighbourhood cat Must be careful though, she also chases cars How silly and dangerous is that Who would have guessed, got a real friend Can't wait to greet her each morn Sometimes I'm having so much damn fun Between brekkie and Annie I'm torn © Jack Ellison 2015

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Sheena My Little Warrior Princess

Sheena My Little Warrior Princess
My puppy love 

I believe in dreams, but there’s only one to which I could want
To dream of my beautiful love of my life; my very best friend
My baby dog of a Pomeranian --- Sheena
There’s not a day that goes by that I never think of her
She was so royally spoiled; even more spoiled than my children
Whenever I drove by a Dairy Queen; she would give me her little 
whimpering sound
Oh all right, I’d say and turned around to the drive-through
Her precious little sparkling eye, danced around so happily
They always had little puppy treats, if they didn’t I’d sneakily give one to
them so they would give my dog a puppy-dog treat of a bone
I covered her lavishly with all puppy toys and had her well-groomed 
once a week--- My man and I would occasionally go fishing. If anyone ever
said the word fishing, Sheena would run to the door and wait there till we 
had everything ready so we all could go fishing. In the boat if she heard that 
flapping sound of the water and end of the line she would go to the end of boat
till we brought the fish in. Boy! My baby sure did love to go fishing, even enjoyed 
ice-fishing. Of course we had an ice-fishing tent. The happy expression on her face
was all I ever needed to make me feel like there is no better love than that of your 
precious dog. She literally went with me everywhere till I received a call to go back 
to work. Then I knew that I’d have to find a babysitter for her. 

Lost her nine years ago; have her picture hanging in my computer room
And also in my sewing, art and just an artistic room 
Most people thought that Pomeranians were always yappy
Not my Sheena, I had her so well trained, when I said bed-time she went to
her little bed. When I asked her if she had to go potty she’d either run to the 
door or run around and dance which I showed her how to do. 
Everyone asked me how I trained her to be so quiet? Well 99% of the time 
I’m by myself. I don’t usually talk to many people for I’m always busy
Doing my own things like sewing, crocheting, oil painting, baking or what-ever.
Even my two children asked me how I trained her so well.
Never, ever yell at them to be quiet, if you’re not quiet yourself
They have feelings just like us, can you imagine just what they’d say if they 
could talk back? I know I’ll never again have a passionate and loving dog
Like my best friend “Sheena,” this name means warrior princess
My little warrior princess I truly know; you’re up in heaven waiting
For me to be dancing with you.

For definitely you are my best of best friend; till I see you again up in heaven
Sheena my little warrior princess.

Written: 2/24/15

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The Message

I sat outside at end of day and watched the night close in.
A year had come; a year had gone, since death came for my friend.
The sadness so well known by now crept softly to the fore. 
The tears spilled from my eyelids like so many times before.

A small white dog sat by my chair: remainder of a well matched pair.
This little dog I loved so well could not replace the one who fell.
My thoughts were of the absent one, my Boggs, who’d left my side.
I wondered had he been near me and knew the times I cried?

I asked him for a tiny sign that I might hear or see,
That he was in the midst of us, young Casey dog and me.
But then I felt so foolish: commenced to think out loud.
“Oh sure, you’re going to see him in that single, passing cloud.”

And even as I spoke the words my eyes were drawn that way.
The sky had darkened deeply with the closing of the day.
A cloud hung there before me, white and large and clear.
The side view of a canine head, its eyes and mouth dark smears.

Its pointed ears were wispy, it’s nose that of a dog.
It hung there in the twilight sky: the image of old Boggs.
I then felt thoughts within my mind: thoughts heard, as if were spoke.
And still the cloud remained the same, did not change shape like smoke.

“You see I’m fine, I’m here with you, at times you think of me.
My new life is a happy one. My spirit now is free.
Stop knowing such great sadness and stop feeling so bereft.
Give Casey all the love you have, for the time that he has left.” 

These thoughts would end the chapter of the sharpest of my grief.
My love could now be Casey’s and I felt a strange relief.
I wondered at the message though, of Casey’s time now left?
The answer came before year three, at the time of Casey’s death.

I sit outside at end of day and watch the night close in.
The years have come; the years have gone, since Boggs came for his friend . . 

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What the Dog Saw

My husband and I often walk down to the local corner shop at dusk to pick up a couple off ice-cold beers. There’s this little house with a white picket fence where a tiny dog with a loud bark lives. As soon as he gets a whiff of us he goes absolutely berserk. Here’s what I imagine he is saying. 

The little dog sees legs: 

Hey, hey, hey, stop, stop, wait a minute you guys, HEY! HEEY! Where are you going? Take me with you. Stop, stop for a minute. For the love of God STOP! Murder! Do did you hear me buddy? I said Murder! Murder! There’s been a brutal bloody murder! My masters buried in the back garden. Under the roses. I saw my new master kill him. I am living with a murderer! HELLO! There’s a man buried in the garden and no one listens to me. What is wrong with you humans? Why doesn’t anyone ever listen to me? I’m a dog for Christ’s sake we see everything. I’m so stressed out right now. So stressed out. I think I’m next. Take me with you, please! Why aren’t you stopping? 

The legs pass: 

Dead silence.

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This Other Kind Of Love

I find it hard to tell you of the love I felt for them:
The gentle little creatures that I came to call my friends.
They joined me at a time of life when human touch grew sparse.
When memories of some folks I'd loved were best left in the past.

A time with children leaving home to spread their wings and fly,
While I remained upon the ground to wave a fond goodbye.
I felt the good Lord knew I'd need someone to love just then;
One for laughter, one for joy and both to be my friend.

As shadows of the day crept in and home meant only me;
Two faces framed in window pane were what each night I’d see.
Returning to a quiet house to find them there alone,
Lit up the pathway to my heart and made my house my home.

The daily walks, the food, the care, the petting, and the play:
Led me from my former life, to a life I have today.
Their the first things that were tended when I woke up each new morn
And the last face that was seen by me until a brand new dawn.

I'm not ashamed to tell the truth; they slept upon my bed.
Snuggled up against my side while I clung to the edge.
And when I felt just out of sorts, as happened frequently.
Concern was in their caring eyes, kind head upon each knee.

Yes; I have known all kinds of love, but this one's not the least.
Some brought laughter, some brought joy, but this love brought me peace.
And on each day they went away, per orders from above;
I thanked the Lord for sending me, 'This Other Kind Of Love'.

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Story of a dog

A dog came into my home one day
l did not chase him like a dog
with open arms l welcomed him an embrace from the heart l gave
l took my mother's cologne and bathed him in the sweetest fragrance
his body l covered with my father's special gown
Special plates were set aside for him to dine
and my fatten calf lost its life to feed him
"feel at home" l said "but do not bark lest you remind everyone you were once a dog"
"Use the loo if you want to help yourself
And dont fight with my cats no matter how much they provoke you"
Days went by and the dog almost became human
l swear l heard him speak
He was treated like my mother's child
He had his own bed too
Then one day the dog recognised a fimiliar place
A place where he had hid his bone years agone
And so he dug it out
l tried to stop him reminding him "you are now human remember"
he would not hear any of it and barked so loud the neighbours came out
Then he bit my hand and showed no remorse
Now l know once a dog always a dog

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The End Of Year Three

It’s the end of year three since the old dog went free;
A rough patch that has softened with time.
I recalled it today . . his going away:
One bad verse in a beautiful rhyme.

Once again I shed tears remembering those years:
Peace of mind then eluded my day.
The other dog too, who soon followed him through:
Both forever live on . . far away.

Now a new girl and boy strive to bring the same joy
And replace that which never can be:
The return of my friends from where heaven begins:
Once again, just those two friends and me.

Let’s pretend it were so . . there'd be changes you know;
For no more would there be only three.
We would share each new day in the old fun-fulled way,
My two old friends . .  my new friends . . and me.

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Daddy's Little Girl

Her eye's are pretty with innocent inside
Her face is precious with curious trying to hide
Her body state's that i am a grown woman
The tight clothes and plenty of makeup keep
the grown men coming
Her every move and every step is just to dog on sexy
That man's eye's missed her face because her body
is screaming caress me
Before he realize this is , he's inside
Her body feels everything that her curious face was 
trying to hide
Those pretty eye's are no longer innocent
Guilt has came and made all her presents pastense
Now that body that stated to be a grown woman with
those eye's that was pretty innocent ; no longer can
hide her precious face with curious
That man never saw her face until after he planted that
seed and then realized that this is serious
Because her body was screaming caress me
His eye's missed her face but , saw her every move and
every step that he couldn't resist because she was just
to dog on sexy
Who cried , when her body lied
But , realized now she have to be a woman and this big
old world
If it wasn't for the tight clothes and plenty of make-up
he would have saw that those pretty eye's with innocent 
meant that she was daddy's little girl

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The theme of this story
is a brown beagle puppy
with a blocky head, large ears,
a curved-up tail and white pawns.
I proudly mamed that gorgeous pooch:
Lucky...the hound that loves to smooch! 

I was asleep, cuddled up in a warm  blanket...
when I hear the bark of a dog, and
as the howl increased, the wind whipped the iced window;
and hurriendly went down stairs,
without putting my slippers on, so curious
to know where that high-pitched bark came from.

When the door slammed open, there surprisingly, I saw
a stranded, shivering beagle stucked in snow:
staring at me with innocent puppy eyes,
and I could tell he was hungry and cold;
he tried to lift his frozen and stiff paws, but he couldn't...
a quiver of sympathy gave me goose-bumps! 

I picked him up and brought him in,
and he started to lick my face to thank me,
so affectionate and loving was that expression,
which I reminisce quite often, going back to that winter's evening.
I laid him in a small crate with a thick blanket, and he went to sleep;
how calm and happy was he, lightly snoring and dreaming!

The next day I took him to the nearest Animal Hospital,
and they gave him a warm bath, and how he loved that!
Yes, the beagle was out of danger and he was healthy,
like he was before he got lost and couldn't find his way home,
and since He had no tag on his collar, he couldn't be identified by name;
I wanted to keep this beautiful dog so badly...the playful dog I called Lucky!

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My Dog Sandie

My dog Sandie is the color of sand that soaks throght my feet.She jumps like a jumping 
frog.When she takes a bath, spashes like me diveing in a swimming pool.She sleeps as if 
she's a baby sleeping on a cloud.That is my dog Sandie.Is she cool?

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Its whats in side

All I wanted was a show dog 
A dog to run and play
A beautiful and talented dog
But it all changed the night 
The night that three legged dog showed up 
Like a gift from god
He’s weary limps weren’t beautiful
He couldn’t run but tried and I watched him drag his leg 
But then he turns and runs towards me 
And I forget everything I just thought 
As he jumps into my arms
I hug him as though there is no difference

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All I waned was a show dog 
A dog to run and play
A beautiful and talented dog
But it all changed the night 
The night that three legged dog showed up 
Like a gift from god
He’s weary limps weren’t beautiful
He couldn’t run but tried and I watched him drag his leg 
But then he turns and runs towards me 
And I forget everything I just thought 
As he jumps into my arms
I hug him as though there is no difference