GIVE A DOG A BAD NAME
I shouldn't have called my dog 'Todger'
Though it seemed pretty cool at the time
I didn't think it would hurt his feelings
And be honest, it isn't a crime.
We were really good pals to be truthful
And 'Todger' became my best friend
We would walk in the park in the evening
On the beach almost every weekend
We'd play 'fetch' with a ball or a frisbee
In summer when evenings were light
And he'd lay on the couch watching telly
And on the foot of my bed every night
And the landlord down at my local
Thought 'Todger' was such a delight
He turned a blind eye to his presence
When I played darts on Wednesday night
I'd sometimes go to the pub in the daytime
To chat with a lonely old dear
And she'd sit there and tickle my best pal
Then slip him a saucer of beer
Then we'd mosey back home together
And search in the fridge for our tea
Sometimes I'd give him some dog food
And sometimes the same food as me
Then just when life seemed so perfect
It couldn't be better I thought
Fate's fickle finger found me
And singled me out for some sport
For one dull afternoon we'd been drinking
And had a few more than was wise
I tried walking straight, but I couldn't
It was something to do with my eyes
And too many saucers of lager
Had affected my best canine friend
He was chasing his tail in a circle
And driving himself round the bend
So we headed for home in a stupor
We weren't making very good speed
And as we were passing the primary school
He somehow escaped from his lead
And shot through the school gates like lightning
Then made for a half-open door
With a mighty great leap he was through it
And went skidding along on the floor
I was stumbling along well behind him
When I reached the door he was gone
Then I heard shouts and screams from a classroom
But I didn't know which was the one.......
…..That my dopey drunk mutt had invaded
So I barged through the door that was first
And confronted a sea of young faces
As into their classroom I burst
Their teacher looked fearsome and threatening
So really she left me no choice
'Have any of you kids seen my 'Todger'
I screamed at the top of my voice
That day wasn't my finest
I know that myself all too well
This poem that I'm writing for you
I'm having to write from my cell
As for 'Todger' he's now at my mother's
While I'm sitting here in the nick
No more silly dog names in the future
Next time..........maybe Willy or Dick?
Copyright © Jim Bates | Year Posted 2016
My life as a dog would indeed be fine
Knowing I could nap anywhere, anytime.
On the porch or in a chair,
I could dream without a care.
With my legs, I'd set a pace
And find a cat or car to chase.
If that prusuit for me did fail,
I'd turn around and chase my tail.
With my nose, I'd take in smells
And see what things I could tell.
Like who is cooking, what and where,
Or who passed by, here and there.
With my ears, I could listen good
To the sounds of my neighborhood.
When the sun went down and all was dark,
I'd take heed of the twilight bark.
With my voice, I would make known
Visitors who approached my home.
My bark would make all foes flee,
Yet to friends it'd be welcoming.
With my eyes, I could implore or beg,
For a scrap of food or a pat on the head.
The neatest thing is - is that I could see
In the dark of night, what there might be.
With my tail, I could express
The degree of my happiness.
And when I'd head out on the go,
My tail would wag, to and fro.
For all the ways that I can find
To put myself in a canine's mind,
It's quite plain to see,
My life as a dog would be grand indeed.
Copyright © Tanya Harrington | Year Posted 2012
The nerve you have to assume
Like calling your dog to heel
You can just command me home
Tell me this are you for real
Ok so I am not getting your respect
I can’t take you back to the family
Neither have you shown any regret
They all think from you I should flee
In this relationship I was the one to spend
You said come home yet no offer for fare
Now my precious emotions are all spent
There is nothing left to salvage here
I am not the remnant of your conscience
I won’t be the recipient of your spiked dream
I am not the dog you taught obedience
To run in attendance to your dry scheme
Copyright © Joy Wellington | Year Posted 2012
Not My “Buddy”
When my friend Nancy moved to a new apartment
For the remainder of her Senior year
Her doggone dog “Buddy” was not allowed
As she asked for my help, I was moved by her tears
A tiny brown mutt who wore a red bandana
Was not a visitor I wanted to take in
But she thought her dog was the top banana
To ease Nancy’s concerns, I finally took him
He was supposed to come with food and instructions
Never before had I provided for a dog’s care
But when Nancy drove up and Buddy arrived at my house
His food and care guide had vanished in thin air
My cats were upset, hid under the couch and bed
As Buddy sniffed around the house for playmates
I called Nancy when Buddy tore up my new rug
She said he was lonely and just needed a date
Nancy suggested I take him on car trips
Buddy fancied himself to be a world traveler
But dog smells linger and I gave him no rides
So he found vengeance by climbing into a sewer
The nine-month school year lingered forever
By now my cats had taken to escaping in trees
When June finally came, I couldn’t wait to say goodbye
But that’s when Nancy sobbed and moaned, “Oh, pretty please.”
Her mother didn’t want Buddy at her house either
And Nancy asked me to keep him all summer
When I replied, “No, he needs to spend time with you”
I quickly lost my best friend, what a bummer!
Copyright © Diane Locksley | Year Posted 2010
Dogs love to chase cats
And cats love to tease.
They race up a tree
Then do as they please.
Dogs love to play
To bark and sleep
But most of the all
They love to eat.
Cats love to relax
On a warm sunny sill.
At night they chase mice
When it's quiet and still.
It’s hard to choose
The best one for me,
Because I find both
Are great company.
I can take a dog for a walk
But a cat's right there,
Waiting to be loved
Curled up on a chair.
A dog gives you kisses,
A cat purrs when it's glad,
Both make you feel better
Whenever you're sad.
With a dog and a cat
There are tricks you can teach,
But which one should I choose?
I must have one of each!
For "One For the Kiddies contest" by Joe Flach
Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2010
A dog trained to play the piano
Is a remarkable sight
But Boston neighbors say its Bach
Is worse than its bite.
Copyright © James Tate | Year Posted 2011
He thought about her for many seconds
All those moments she never left his mind
He was surprised when she said she loved him
For him to love her he'd have to be blind
For Sara Kendrick's Contest
Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2016
It's the night before Christmas,
And I and the cat,
Patrol the house,
In search of that,
Which could cause harm,
To kith or kin,
Though the job is mine,
The cat is my friend,
So he comes along,
To help where he can,
And we have devised,
A workable plan.
He'll give the call,
If he sees something strange,
And I'll come a-runnin',
That's what we've arranged.
The war cry he gives,
Is a terrible screech,
And I have to admit,
It gives me the creeps.
One night 'bout this time,
A few years ago,
We thought we heard something,
Outside in the snow.
The cat crept up,
To the window sill,
And he gave a cry,
That was eerie and shrill.
The folks were all gone.
They were at church,
And up on the roof,
Came a clatter and lurch;
Then some strange old man,
In a funny red suit,
Came down the chimney,
With a sack filled with loot.
I was on the attack.
None of our stuff,
Would he put in that sack.
Back up the chimney,
He flew in disgrace,
And reindeer were running,
All over the place.
They took off like a rocket,
Swooped low and then high.
I swear that I never,
Knew reindeer could fly.
Some poor old lady,
Was out in the street,
Never knew what hit her,
It was reindeer feet.
Her husband stood staring,
In total dismay,
And they sing about her,
To this very day;
How on her way home,
From the church which was near,
Grandma got run over,
By eight reindeer.
It's the night before Christmas,
And I and the cat,
Are on the alert,
But he won't be back.
(Grandma got run over by a reindeer,
(walking home from church on Christmas Eve,
(Ohhhh you can say you don't believe in Santa,
(but as for me and Grandpa --- WE BELIEVE!)
(Now you know the whole story)
For Last Fifty Poems Contest by Brian Strand
For DejaVu Christmas contest by Debbie Guzzi
Copyright © Judy Ball | Year Posted 2011
Her name is Apogee Sausalito,
she is tiny, feisty and black;
when she romps with Tricia,
she thinks she's a cat.
The crafty feline hides
on the dining room chair;
'round and 'round the table,
the dog circles her there.
Behind the tablecloth,
the cat keeps watch;
reaches out with her paw,
and gives S'Lito a swat.
It's a game they both love;
each day's regular routine,
we enjoy their frisky antics
with morning coffee and cream.
Copyright © Cona Adams | Year Posted 2014
quatrains with palindrome and onomatopœia
I thought I saw a puddy tat. Was it a cat I saw?
We got one of those curtain things so Simon Dog can come
and go without our bother, when we are busy at home.
Quick-quick, click-click, stick-stick, the neighbor cat watches in awe.
I thought I saw a pretty hat. Was it a hat I saw?
Simon Dog has chased after things since he was just a pup
And though he's seventy in people years, he still jumps up
announcing, bouncing, pouncing all his trophies with his paws.
I thought I saw a piper's rat. Was it a rat I saw?
Lately, Simon doesn't seem as hungry as he's used to
I guess it could be his old age, or maybe stomach flu?
Quick-quick, click-click, stick-stick, the magnets keep that curtain taut.
I thought I saw a spotted bat. Was it a bat I saw?
Simon's not the only one attracted to this curtain.
Diversion and delight offer exercise it's certain -
bouncing, pouncing, announcing a treasure he's not yet caught.
written 5 March 2016
Copyright © Reason A. Poteet | Year Posted 2016
Emerging from the downtown hardware store
I saw a strange funeral procession
Two black limo hearses were at the front
Then walked a man without expression
The man had a shaggy dog on a leash
A long string of people followed him
All of these people were in single file
That’s why I addressed the man on a whim
“Forgive me for asking; I’m curious”
“What type funeral procession is this”?
My wife’s in the lead hearse; my dog killed her
When she Bi*ched at me, he just went amiss
But I see there are two hearses up front
Alas, my mother-in-law was killed too
When she tried to help my wife, he killed her
Once my dog got mad, I knew they were through
I thought for a minute; then spoke real low
“I have a strange request, if you don’t mind”
“Is there a chance I could borrow your dog”?
Well sure, but you have to go get in line
Copyright © Charles Sides | Year Posted 2012
Hot diggety dog, hear me bellow
My ship's finally made it to shore
It's left me agog this brand new life
I'll be wanting for nuttin' no more!
Never guessed I'd ever discover
Friends I didn't know I had
Just showing up from outta nowhere
Claiming to be best buds as lads
Folks always seem to gather around
The smell of the mighty buck
Popping outta the woodwork it seems
Too bad, they're just out of luck
Don't give in, it's a common old ploy
It's as old as a Tracy named Dick
Tell 'em scram and don't come back
Urge 'em on with a little kick
© Jack Ellison 2012
Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2012
Some folks will say that he's just a hound,
But no finer dog could ever be found.
I have to admit that a hound's hard to train,
But that's just because he must first grow a brain.
He's so happy-go-lucky and such a real tease.
He's so full of love and desires just to please;
But he gets into trouble more often than not,
'Cause he's curious of nature and gets into a lot.
The things that he does shows an active mind.
He just has to mature, he just needs some time,
To show the intelligence inate in his breed.
He's tenacious and brave, this is his creed.
He can find any trail that he's set upon.
Just give him the scent and then he is gone.
He won't give up until he's caught the prey,
And you'll know where to find him by his noted bay.
You don't want to lose him, he's not something you lend.
He's your dog, he's your buddy, he's your best friend.
You can look high and low but his like can't be found.
There ain't no such animal as this dog, "Just A Hound".
Copyright © Judy Ball | Year Posted 2016
SMOKEY AND THE GOLDEN RETRIEVER
Once when I was just a kid,
My mom thought 'twould be nice,
If I'd invite some friends to play,
And we could swing outside.
I had a swing set in the yard,
Where I would play for hours.
My daddy built it just for me,
Away from Mommy's flowers.
It stood beneath a large Oak tree,
And even had a sand box.
We played and swung and had a ball,
Got sand in clothes and socks.
Our neighbors had a big red dog,
A loyal, patient friend,
Prince often came to play with us,
He wagged his tale and grinned.
Another dog came on the scene,
And Prince was not amused,
They postured and they sniffed each other,
A dog fight soon ensued.
We screamed and cried and climbed the set,
As Prince and dog fought on,
Smokey heard our frantic cries,
And raced across the lawn.
Prince was huge with big white teeth,
And muscles big and stocky,
But Smokey feared him not and leaped,
And rode him like a jockey.
Smokey sank his claws in deep,
With teeth he grabbed his neck,
The big dog took off down the street,
With Smokey firmly set,
Upon his back, he rode him well,
They soon were out of sight,
We worried that he might get hurt,
In yet another fight;
But he came strolling home real soon,
The hero of the day.
"Don't worry kids', he seemed to say,
He won't be back today."
For Fraqncine Roberts Pick A Pet Contest - July4,2011
Copyright © Judy Ball | Year Posted 2011
My mom was a cur, but a big one
My dad I never did know
In my litter there were nine of us
Junk yard born, two years ago
Mom gave birth to us in an old car
In the back seat, where it’s dry
It was winter time and snow outside
Their first night, three pups would die
No milk; four died without eyes open
My brother hit by a truck
From my litter, only I survive
Is that my “good” or “bad” luck?
For the "Dog Gone Tales" contest
Copyright © Charles Sides | Year Posted 2012
They call me a Bully
but I think they must be blind,
I'm the one who is bullied
People don't seem to mind;
They call me dangerous
but it seems to me it's really them,
The abuse is directed at us
ignorance is this problem's stem;
They say there is no hope, no chance
we are supposed to be destroyed,
A circle of misinformation such a sad dance;
We have feelings, even if we have no voice;
They call me a Bully
but we are the bullied who pay
We beg you stand up for us, love unconditionally;
That is how we love, every single day.
Copyright © Melani Udaeta | Year Posted 2015
Fuzzy and I driving along
Going to Ricky’s to eat
He had to swerve his truck to miss
A Basset Hound in the street
Fuzzy! Stop the truck, let’s go back
And check out that Basset Hound
By God, that’s got to be “Shorty”
It Ricky’s dog we have found
I don’t think he knows where he is
His home is three miles from here
Catch him and put him in the truck
That is Ricky’s dog, that’s clear
As we pulled into Rick’s yard
Shorty got out of the truck
Ricky your dog had runaway
We caught him so you’re in luck
Ricky said, “You’ve got the wrong dog
Shorty is right over there”
Get that dog back where he belongs
Before the owner’s aware”
Fuzzy and I returned the dog
And thought about what we’d done
Had someone seen us steal their dog
We could be under the gun
Copyright © Charles Sides | Year Posted 2011
Copyright © Mandal Bijoy Beg | Year Posted 2014
The Yellow Dog
A skinny yellow dog walked 'round
Needin' to find some shade
The dusty little one street town
Was hot as God has made
He eyed the flagpole in the square
No shadow could he see
He raised his leg an' aimed it there
You ain't no help to me.
He laid down in the sand and dust
His chin upon his paw
Didn't move unless he must
Beat all he ever saw
He knew he'd have to move right nigh
The sun would bake his brain
He sighed and put his nose up high
An' sniffed the air for rain
The air was still an' desert dry
No water comin' soon
He headed for a dusty lie
Beneath the town saloon
He rested there with one eye shut
An' wondered how he'd eat
The garbage cans behind the hut
Don't last long in this heat
About that time the batwings swung
An' out walked Booger Red
He looked to see if low clouds hung
Then thought of gettin' fed
An' there he saw the yellow dog
Just squintin' with one eye
He said, "Ol' son, get off that log,
You'll starve there by an' by."
The dog had never had a friend
But somehow he just knew
This redhaired cowboy with the grin
Was somehow somethin' new
Booger swung up in the saddle
An' said, "Come foller me.
We'll get grub out where there's cattle,
An' then, young friend, we'll see."
For five years now that dog was here
No better friend could be
'Til Red was killed by a Longhorn steer -
No better friend than he
The yellow dog hung down his head
An' wandered back to town
He seems to know Booger is dead
As he searches around
Then he heads for the town saloon -
Becomes a watchful dog
He listens to hear one day soon
"Ol' son, get off that log."
For contest Weepy Quatrain. for Laura Loo
Copyright © Larry Bradfield | Year Posted 2016
A tale I'll tell in happy rhyme
Of Old town geezer, Uncle Buck,
His ugly mutt, well past its prime,
And of his ugly, rusty truck.
The people of the town, in jest,
And seeking winter blues to ban,
Devised a bold and fun contest -
A uniquely entertaining plan.
'Whosoever claims he owns
The most unsightly dog and truck
Will have the right to claim the throne'
A worthy prize, thought Uncle Buck.
A fair was held in early spring
On downtown lake of frozen ice
Where men from near and far did bring
Their trucks and canids to the site.
A parade ensued of vision foul
Each sight more awful to behold.
But when they saw Old Buck's they howled
'That is the ugliest one all told! '
And so, the challenge it was won -
Of all contestants, Uncle Buck
Would prove he could not be outdone
He owned the ugliest dog and truck.
July 13, 2015
Copyright © Moira Cameron | Year Posted 2016
Company's coming, must clean house
Pretend it's immaculate every day
Why must we put on airs for our visitors
Just show 'em our every day way
It's all a big front this illusion we create
It's never gonna be the real us
Down to earth folks, we know who we are
Never want to make a big fuss
As hard as we try to ignore the norms
We succumb to the desire to be
One of those folks so we put on these airs
But it's just not my cup of tea
Maybe I should show 'em the real me
With my clothes strewn all about
Two day old cereal still sitting in the pot
Dirty dishes all over the house
Okay just kidding, Cathie wouldn't allow
Our home to be seen in that state
Rather be seen with her hair up in curlers
Than dishes with leftover cake
Company's coming must clean house
That's not us, what you see's what you get
If you're expecting us to “put on the dog”
Not a chance, on that you can bet!
© Jack Ellison 2013
Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2013
He wears a bandana and smells
worse than an unkept dog with a horrible breath;
I heard rumors that he sleeps
in a garage, where dogs are infested with fleas.
He drives a station wagon emitting strong fumes,
does he ever change his engine oil or let it burn 'until the engine
stops running? He shows no blush of shame, but curses more than
a truck driver while he sits still and counts his woes.
The hungry dogs bark and peak out of the car windows,
seeing angry faces and hands waving at close distance...
the defiant driver refuses to come out of the broken-down car,
and with raggae music blasting, he gives them the finger.
Only a bigot could act in such a disrespectful way
as fury increases and every driver blows the horn constantly,
but too much air noise gets pedestrians tense, and one of them
calls police on his cell phone...they come and arrest him.
And he still smells in that cell cramped with criminals and offenders,
he even had the guts to ask one of the officers to bring in his dogs!
Oh, filthy, unhygienic guy they should hand you soap and towel,
instead of keeping you in there and make everybody yell!
Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2010
When Adam first did fall from grace,
Something died within him.
His very soul was weak and frail,
And God looked down upon the man,
Said,"He's lost something special.
He'll have to learn all over again,
To feel on the same level.
He must needs have a teacher,
To live close by his side,
To teach him by example,
And be his friend and guide.
He must have great courage,
And patience unsurpassed,
For his will be a thankless job;
He'll be considered last.
I gave to him a woman,
But she's as bad as he.
'Twas she who was the first to fall,
And led him to that tree.
Who has a heart so filled with love,
Forgives time and again?
Who humbly suffers every wrong,
Yet still will kiss your hand?
The man now seems to have gone blind,
His mind seems in a fog.
Who will guide him back to me?
I know, I'll send the dog."
Copyright © Judy Ball | Year Posted 2016
The morning has started with a trace of a dew
An ascent through the tussock ignites the new day
Trailing huntaways eager to work on the ewes
Awaited shrill whistles loose the dogs on their prey.
A new shepherd surveys as proceedings unfold
Sinewy figures employing hill sticks with care.
Spectacular vistas with a dawn of pure gold
Formidable mountains looking solemn and bare.
Below a glass lake reflects sharp rugged peaks
A boat carves the water, slicing the image in half.
Sounds of dogs barking as sheep break from a creek
White ribbons slowly form in planned choreograph.
Shepherds whistles are mingled with thousands of bleats
Descending sheep merging to form an earth cloud.
Dust and steam rising above, as if to compete
Wisps of white rolling as matagouri stands proud.
A fantail flits on the first hints of the breeze
While a waxeye settles amid two twists of barb wire.
As sheep reach a plateau, the expanse seems to tease
Though allured, dogs restore order on sheep that inquire.
Searching mouths hastily nibble tests of fresh grass
Stragglers are hastened by gleeful dogs and their bark
Looking back up the hill the commotion has passed
Hawks floating on thermals within a large arc.
Mid morning arrives as the sheep enter the yards
Dogs climbing in troughs and having rest in the sun
The new shepherd knows this is his time to safeguard
His future life on the land has now just begun.
**If I haven't quite portrayed the
picture properly this may help.
Copyright © Mark Woods | Year Posted 2016
He's such a cute little dog
enjoys it, when you play around
his chew rope he loves to hog
loves being wrestled to the ground.
Copyright © Cynthia Jones
We've had Scamp now for almost 6 months. We adopted him from the SPCA, just down the street from where we live.
Copyright © Cynthia Jones | Year Posted 2015
It wasn't my fault the house burned down,
When it started I was far, far from home
How was I to know it would turn out like that?
I was way down by the creek, writing a poem...
I'm not to blame that the response was slow,
That the road had been closed for repair....
If the firemen had come in quick time
I wouldn't be crying, " NOT FAIR!"
You have no proof I'm responsible,
Just because I was there for a time..
It could have been the dog that did it,
I swear I'm not responsible for this crime.
I will show no remorse, at least not right now
And I will continue to hotly deny
I think living with Grandma will be cool....
Gee Dad, that's not a very nice reply....
Copyright © Barbara Gorelick | Year Posted 2010
Just over four years ago
A question was asked
Do we get a pet
And answer our ask
So we consulted the kids
As they gave us choices
For in our family
We listen to voices
A cat would be nice
But sadly not
As we have asthma in the family
So a cat was not sought
No bird or rabbit or even a fish
Was in the thoughts of our children's wish
One thought, that did spring to mind
A breed of dog of the most beautiful kind
They are small and cuddly
With different colours of coats
But the one we went for
And we forever dote
His name is Digger
Which is his Pedigree name
He is a Golden Cocker Spaniel
From dog show fame
Through good days and bad days
He is always happy and playing
Our most delightful pet
Who treats all days the same
Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2010
me food and
I'll follow you
I'll play with
And keep me
clung to your
Copyright © Mandal Bijoy Beg | Year Posted 2014
The naming of dogs is a serious matter,
as dogs are, by nature, a serious lot.
A name sets the tone for a pup’s pranks and patter;
and long into dog-hood. So, give it some thought.
Call a pup BOZO, he’ll just be a clown,
playing dead, pirouetting when you command “DOWN!”
If you dub your dog KING, you’ll be swelling his head;
he’s born to do nothing, he’s royally-bred.
You could call a dog BOOMERANG (comes when you call);
or SNAPPY, or FIDO (most faithful of all).
But to be realistic, here’s my advice.
It takes so much training to make a dog nice.
You give a command of obedience, NOW!
The dog’s suddenly deaf, he says “Say what?” or “How?”
So christen him WHY? – philosophical pup.
When you say “WHY SIT!” he’s bound to get up.
You could call him WHO ME? or perhaps NEVERMORE.
My personal choice, DON'T, no dog can ignore.
Just yell at him “DON’T COME!” He’ll see it’s his game
and run off to prove that he’s true to his name.
(with apologies to T.S. Eliot)
Copyright © Taylor Graham | Year Posted 2005
Each day, it is get up before the sun, prepare the cart
Stock until it’s full and it is on with the day.
Mr. Johansson now has his work cut out for him
Selling dirty waters on the corner of 5th and Broadway.
For 34 years now, this has been his trade,
The vendor of food for the passers-by.
He never really made a lot of money it seemed,
But, he still never stopped and I know just why.
His family had all for which they ever asked.
His time, he had given to them with love and ease.
A bank would never know him as a rich man,
But, it’s through family and friends, that he succeeds.
He is a quiet man, just wishing to make his way,
Doing whatever it takes to provide and just get by.
An honorable man, no one could ever deny.
Truly more successful than you or I.
He never asks for help, independence he has.
He, however, is always willing to lend a hand.
If you are ever near the corner of Broadway and 5th,
You better stop and say hi to the hot dog man.
Copyright © Michael Degenhardt | Year Posted 2008