Thea, grandfather Alferd's dog died, she was so old and sick
Now is Thea on the moon, says Adrian who is six
Michael Jackson died so unexpectedly and abruptly
He is on the moon and plays with Thea, says Adrian who is a big fan
Betzy, grandfather Arild's dog died, she was also old and sick
Now Betzy is also on the moon with Thea and Michael Jackson and play all day
Great Grandmother died so unexpectedly and abruptly
Adrian who is six had difficulty understanding
Adrian who is six cried many tears for Great Grandmother
but comforted himself with the fact that she is sitting on the moon and
makes waffles to Thea, Michael Jackson and Betzy.
A-L Andresen :) - A true story -
We let down the top to soak in the sun
Now that the harshness of winter is done
As you let back the seat and put your feet on the dash
Saying, “keep your eyes on the road I don’t want to crash”
I truly must admit that I’m torn completely in two
The coast has its beauty, then again so do you
As the beauty of the Sun is absorbed by your skin
Like a kid at the candy store I simply want to dig in
If life is a candy store sweetheart you are the treat
All the other candy I tasted, never tasted so sweet
The reason I love summer is because of the heat
The skimpier the bikini, the greater the treat
I can’t begin to express how wonderful you are
Saying, “hey take a look at her I’ll steer the car”
At first I truly had no idea what I should say?
Though now it’s, “ok sweetheart, have it your way”
I think that is because you know these words are true
I may take look at her but I shall forever belong to you
Summer is a time that is as bright as the sun
Out goes the cold as it’s replaced by the fun
We have our barbecues and sit under the stars
Let down the tops and go for rides in our cars
Go tend to our gardens in farmer John clothes
Truly amazed at how fast everything grows
Go hang out at the river as well as the lake
Cover ourselves in oil than let our skin bake
Embrace the moments because these words are true
The days last much longer and the sky is so blue
The dog days of summer I reckon that’s so
We bark and howl at folk we don’t even know
If life is banquet then summer is the feast
I think we should gobble it up, to say the least
Written for john's Summer contest.
The Day The Dog Died
The very day her dog had died ;
she sat alone and cried and cried.
He'd been her companion for many a day ;
she thought he'd be there when SHE went away.
She wept and wept all through the night ;
somehow, her husband would make it all right.
They got in the car and went to the pound ;
she, so discouraged, just looked at the ground.
"Pick out another", her old husband said ;
"You have to face it, your boy dog is dead."
Then the old lady walked slowly outside ;
tears rolled down her face, she wanted to hide.
Up rambled an old dog, a female was she ;
crawled into their car, as bold as could be.
The dog sat patiently waiting there ;
not moving a muscle, going nowhere.
"She just picked us out !", the old lady cried ;
"I thought I'd have no friend till' the day I died."
Now both the old girls sit in a chair;
discussing the world and going nowhere.
That little dog had a very sad past ;
now, she has someone to love her, at last.
She's given the dog a name, Dee Dee,
she listens intently, her chin on Mom's knee.
They pass the long hours being together;
in rain or snow, through all kinds of weather.
So, if this is a "dog's life", lucky is she;
there's just not a better place to be.
Perhaps they will leave on the very same day,
for, to each, there is no other possible way.
I think of them often....they'r gone from this earth;
I'm nearing her age and I not nearly her worth.
Although. three little dogs sit on my bed;
listening and playing and tilting their heads,
at each and everything I say;
like it was important in some sort of way.
I understand the importance of each little creature ;
to someone, somewhere, for they are the teachers.
Call me whatever to suit your moods
Lay me out with cuss words, “give me the goods”
Scandalize my name every place you go
“It’s a dog eat dog world” but I hate that flow
So scatter your venom to the four winds of earth
Burn the night oil you may hang in dirt
While hours creep I lie comfortable in my bed
Dead to this world, I fall asleep, well fed
Like a kid after a long, hot day in the pool
In “the dog days of summer”, keeping cool
Each day with a clean heart, I go on my way
Often, “happy as a flea in a dog house”, I stay!
My preference sometimes is to “let sleeping dogs lie”
As this is one baggage, I will not carry ‘til I die
No lasting affect do your words have on me
Wishing you and yours only the best, you see
I know who I am, and keep malice at bay
Fervently I believe that “ every dog has its day”
YES, IT’S A DOG’S LIFE
Out at last and oh boy am I gonna enjoy some fun -
Leg-up, ahhhhhhhhhh, the poodle next door will envy that one.
He‘ll be calling for me pretty soon, to cross the road (as if I can’t do it
alone and get a in a bit of car-chasing to boot) with him, the dimwit.
So, gotta get to the corner and sniff who’s been and how long ago was that.
But whoa! What’s that scent I feel on the breeze? A cat?
Excellent ! - a chase with one of those furry mouse-snatchers -
Just to show ‘em who owns this street…Ok…ready you dog watchers?….
Excuse me for a mo….woof, woof, snarl, woof, woof:
Just a bit of theatrical dog-voice there. Mmm . . . I love cat-on-the-hoof.
Oh yeah, I figured, now he’s gonna put on the leash
As a statement that “he owns this stretch of street” - it’s his niche.
Ok, it’s on now, but he’s gonna have to pay: his muscles will tire
Cos I am pulling the wrong way all the time, and pressure gets higher
On the leash, I’m a-gonna want to be ahead of him whichever way he goes:
Were talking arm-out-of-socket after half an hour, I suppose.
Another corner, stop for a good sniff, make him wait with patience deep:
On his “tight leash” he’s gonna have to stand near the crap heap.
Ok, quick leg-up, no liquid but just gotta do it for show
Demo of who-owns-what-corner around here, you know.
Now it’s the neighbour’s poodle, “Oh hi, how are you?
Let me sniff your rear-end a good bit, mmmmm.. . . .ooooo!”
Then I’ll lick his hand he’ll have to wash that hand when we’re home.
Just showing him who owns the butt-sniffing rights around here where I roam.
Ok, so it’s the newspaper shop ritual, gotta show a little obedience here.
Why can’t he buy it at a shop that’s near?
How’d you like a roll of paper in your mouth for fifteen minutes?
And no drools on it or else he’ll have a seizure or fits.
And with the roll in my mouth as I pass all the guys laugh. . .
I tell you, man, it’s a dog’s life.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Written 13 June 2012
Entered in Tanya Harrington's Contest Dog Gone Tales
I met a man on the internet, but he’s not for me to date
He seems ok because he has a dog he loves, so I think I am too late.
The dog was given a name of notable English fame
He used to live on 221b Baker Street and Sherlock was his name.
Poor Sherlock has sore eyes, so they sent him to Dr Bart
He had to have a lid lift to keep the lids apart.
Poor Sherlock is now home and feeling very sad
A cone around his head, he wants to sleep with mum and dad.
Sherlock is a bloodhound, not the smallest dog
He sleeps with mum and dad and daddy writes his blog.
Dad has found a use for Sherlock with his cone around his head
He places him in the garden for free satellite instead.
Get Well Soon Sherlock
THE MUSHERS RIDE OUT
Air colder than the heart of death
Surrounds the champion teams
And crystals dance twixt every breath
To paint this Arctic dream
Critics who think these dogs coerced
To run in mighty races
Need only bask upon the sight
Of eager canine faces
Commands are sharp , mistakes are few
The lead dog thinks for all
And like a whisper wrapped in wind
He hears the mushers call
No whips or sticks strike dogs who lead
It’s months and years together
The musher and his dog who leads
Are minds that think together
As mushers wait and dogs stand tall
All eager to be gone
The darkness lurks beyond the lights
And in a shot they’re gone
Well-wishers line the barren streets
Where winds are arctic whips
While satellites will flash the sight
From warmth the newsmen quip—
Fools of Tourists dressed all wrong
will scoff at cold life dangers
These careless tourists wander off
At risk to rescue rangers
The neighbours went off on their yearly vacation,
Off to visit some foreign nation.
Leaving me keys and a list a mile long,
To watch their pets. What could go wrong?
The rottweiler is a gentle soul
As long as there's always food in her bowl.
The trick is filling it as quick as can be,
So you need to be fast, faster than me.
The birds take pride in emptying their dishes
All over the floor, and then there's the fishes.
So there's food and water and then food again,
Making sure there's enough to last until when
The next day begins and we start it anew.
I'm told there's a cat. Really! Who knew?
If there is , it certainly keeps itself hid.
It's like playing hide and seek with some little kid.
Walking the dog has become quite a chore.
She sees the leash and runs for the door.
After being dragged two miles the walk finally starts.
The dog is immense, she should be pulling carts.
Back to the house and the hide and seek game.
If there is a cat, it doesn't come to it's name.
The birds are now staring at their seeds on the floor.
I refuse to refill the dishes as I head to the door.
So this daily ritual will last another week
And I'll keep trying to win the game of hide and seek.
Thank goodness their vacation only comes once a year.
After watching the pets ....I could sure use a beer.
. *DOGGY STYLE*
Tonight! Tonight! I must display.
About my man's doggy style way.
Once he comes home he acts like I'm his "DOGGY BAG."
"It’s DOGGING ME!" The way he starts to nag.
He came from the bar with his "DOG BREATH!"
Calling me by the name of Beth.
When he settles down he starts acting like he's the "TOP DOG!"
"DOGGONE IT!" doesn't he know I'm adding this bone to my blog.
Now he's drunk acting "MEAN LIKE a JUNK YARD DOG!"
I taunt him by calling him a pig and a hog.
We "FIGHT LIKE CATS and DOGS," this really must be love?
"It's a DOG eat DOG WORLD" when push comes to shove!
Once again he will sleep "IN THE DOG HOUSE!"
This time for ripping my favorite blouse.
It's too bad "YOU CAN'T TEACH an OLD DOG NEW TRICKS!"
I wish he was a real dog, he needs to be neutered and fixed.
I think I will laugh and kiss him good night.
Anyways "HIS BARK is WORSE THAN HIS BITE!"
By morning he will be "SICK AS A DOG" and scary like a mouse.
I'm still waiting to be "Happy as a FLEA in a DOG HOUSE!"
"HE IS NOTHING BUT A HOUND DOG" thinking it's doggy style all the time!
In his rabies case his desires keeps getting worse than slobber and slime.
.Should I tell my man that his actions are what I call humans love torch?
With the reaction "IF you can’t run with the BIG DOG's PUPPY, STAY on the porch!"
Don’t mess with me; I’ve been highly trained
And no one will ever see me chained
I have a leash to walk my owner
And I’m a universal donor
No fleas will anyone find on me
I’ve eyes for a man who cannot see
I get to go into bakeries
Cookies tossed my way I always seize
You may chuckle at the life I lead
German Shepherds are the smartest breed
Though some spend hours running from children
I have a comfy bed at day’s end
But I take my work seriously
And take comfort knowing that he needs me
*Entry for Tanya Harrington’s “Dog Gone Tales”