You’d think a dog named Lucky,
Would lead a decent life.
But Lucky had his troubles,
And they followed day and night.
One day Lucky ran away
In search of greener pastures.
Just to find a field ablaze,
Thus the start of his disasters.
Although Lucky didn’t die that day
And no limbs or parts were broken,
Lucky smelled of smoldered hair
And you’d swear he kept on smokin!
And Lucky liked to chase the cars,
Till the day he lost his nerve
When Lucky met a big ‘ol bus
That couldn’t stop or swerve.
I’m not sure just how it hit him
Or how he’s here today.
But he’s never walked straight since,
And one eye veers away.
My Lucky always clashed with cats
And was leery of their paws.
Until a “Tom” of forty pounds
Let Lucky feel his jaws.
Hair and fur balls filled the air
Like Cottonwoods a bloomin.
Poor ‘ol Lucky lost an ear,
And now looks twice as stupid.
I confess, I named him wrong
And why he stays, I’ll never know.
I guess that I’m the lucky one,
To have Lucky here at home.
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!
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.
"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.
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.
I do not know?
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.
In a field I saw a goat
Eating grass that day
I felt so sorry for him
And thought he’d like to play
And here I thought he was
So sad to be that way
I thought he needed attention
So I planned to see him that day
But what a fool was I you see
I really didn’t click
Why would he be all alone?
In a field so green and thick
So I squeezed through the fence
And straight into the grass
He didn’t seem to flinch
Or look as I walked past
But then I saw his eye
And saw his chewing cease
He didn’t look so happy
And lost that look of peace
There I was standing
In this field alone
A goat looking angry
And me so far from home
So I started running
And there began the chase
Through the field of flowers
Running with no grace
Stumbling and stamping
While he kicked behind
Scared that I would be beat up
And I would not be fine
And so I jumped the fence
And got safely out
While he chewed my jumper
He had in his mouth
And looking at that goat now
I can clearly see
Why there was a fence
Between him and me
"Christmas Dinner Fiasco"
on Christmas Eve, family gathered for "Feast of Seven Fishes"
an old Italian tradition while wrapping gifts with expectant wishes
hubby decided to play Chef Boyardee
complete with hat and apron, a fun sight to see
the kitty cats circled dinner table to pounce
licking their whiskers, smelling each tasty ounce.
pumpkin bread baking and homemade apple pie
whipped cream and hot fudge enjoyed with warm sigh
candied sweet potatoes with buttered rolls and biscuits
diet food hidden away like melba toast and triscuits
aromas so yummy the puppies were squealing
soon there was a stampede, sent the kitchen Chef reeling.
tree trimming time once dinner was finished
spirits running high with no chance to diminish
all seated to say grace before this marvelous meal
with colorful palette' and great appetite appeal
underneath the table came growling and gnashing
as felines and canines, over dripping crumbs, were clashing.
the Chef lost his temper and scooted pets to the yard
from inside the hacienda those onry pets were barred
but the doggie door was unlocked so began the invasion
pets on parade on a Christmas Eve occasion
the desserts lined the table like poetic pop art
creme puffs with rum and rice cakes a la carte'.
coffees were carried next to Christmas tree
tinsel and garland with musical lights mystery
but Cali the cat had his own idea of fun
'twas entangled in garland with paws in a bun
and Gabby had stolen a piece of creme puff
his black face was white as snowflake soft fluff.
the Danes sniffed out chew sticks from their stockings
as Raider and Golden ran round the tree in flocking
and sweet little Venus was as good as a dream
enjoying her peaches as she swirled in whipped cream
Christmas dinner fiasco provided laughs with love
as we sang "Deck the Halls' to the good Lord above.
*For Francine Robert's Christmas Dinner With Humor.
*Dec. 2, 2012.
His chicken vanished from the face of Earth
unhappy and distressed connected so
with sites of poetry where lost pets' dearth
transformed to versicle expression's flow.
Logorrhea of namby pamby lines
and balderdash of verbose gardyloo
bombarded him with rounds of porcupines
stampeded unctuous like rabid gnoo.
But on the other hand he met some birds
composers of refined and sightly verse,
with glinting souls and clever words,
their intellect's expressions wise and terse.
And when he searched of who to value most
received his chicken's metrical riposte.
© G.V. 09-14-2013 All rights reserved
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
Piddle Eee Dee
Dribble, Dribble, breakage, and Piddle
A pox on that little dog!
Ankle biter, obnoxious barker…
Wish he’d just shut up!
Chased him around all day long
But he still got my sofa again!
I wonder if my Dear Old Mother-in-Law
Could survive just one day without him!
Perhaps I should now get out the broom
A week of destroying stuff, is just too much!
So I used the broom to scoot him out the door.
Then he proceeded to dig my flowers up!
From under the fence he made an escape
I chased him for an hour and a half!
Then my Mother-in-Law came back home
And picked her precious up!!!!
Such love and warmth I've never seen… Darn…
Wouldn't that be my luck! So I’m back to…
Dribble, Dribble, breakage, and Piddle
A pox on that little dog!
Ankle biter, obnoxious barker…
Wish he’d just shut up!
1221 Boiling Weather Drive
First customer gets a free beehive
With purchase ten bones or more
Food, drinks, desserts galore
Porcelain hitchhiker needs a ride
In loving memory of Jones,
The best duck I've known.
My pet and friend since I was four.
For a bird, he was dear;
I wish he was here
So that he and I could do more.
It all started when Mr. Pie was a little bugger,
Just a wisp of fluff in the palm of your hand.
"Oh, isn't mama's little man the most handsomest EVER?!"
Not a day has gone by when he has argued that point!
"Be careful with all that encouragement" I prophetically warned,
"It may go straight to his head!!"....and what a head it became!!
Grey, dignified, regal....a lions mane with white marbling.
2 golden eyes piercing you with that casually bored stare one may give to one's shoes.
Every morning at 8 am and every night at 10 pm he demonstrates his knowledge of time.
Head-butting the door and SCREAMING the words "MOM!!!
MAAAWWWMMMM!!......NOW???!!???.........MOM??? NOWWWWW??" (for real!!)
Needless to say, he's got us trained pretty well,
But we're still working on house-breaking me!!!!!
He still has yet to teach us PROPER portion control,
And I get the impression I'm not so popular when I give less than expected.
Maybe it's the "Death-threat" stare, or maybe the Kitty Log in my slippers, I don't know!
All I can tell you is don't EVER make the mistake of addressing him as a "cat"
Or you may come to know the justice of King Pie, The Terrible........just a warning!!
< cakes and sausages on hot griddle
uncle Leroy's dam dog just piddled
slipped ~ slide across floor
grabbed shotgun by front door
now dam ole dog just plays an fiddle
bow bow bow bow bow bow bow bow ~ wow
ow ow ow ow ow ow ow bow ~ ow
with tail between own ~ legs
now dog sings ~ and ~ brags
about cousin's daisies's bad bow ~ pows
Entry For John Freeman's
Slapstick Limerick Contest
Poor Ole Dog LOL
Two kittens sleep
aside as I write purring
each in a moccasin
Once came along a groundhog named Phil
Looked for shadow in winters chill
Even top hat and coat
Didn't stop whining's gloat
Stuck six more weeks paying heating bill
Katherine Stella 2/4/12
February Funny Bone Contest
She’s out there chasing a cricket
Through bush, through shrub & through thicket
Together they hop
But when she gets it, she just wants to lick it!
A cat whose vet took his eye
Just cannot quite understand why
His eye’s been enucleated,
3-D vision reduciated,
So now, he keeps an eye out for an eye
Ya gotta keep limericks loose
Think green eggs, or perhaps Dr. Seuss
They’re structured, it’s true,
But they’re also a zoo
Whose tenants are all on the loose!
I frolic in fountains of words
Overflowing with serious absurds
Each poem I write
Wakes up and takes flight
Joining angels and faeries and birds
You ask that we write a good limerick
How to do so, I haven’t a glimmerick
So I struggle and frown
Teaching poems to clown
So a smile on your lips will be shimmerick
A cat with a mouth full of mouse
Brought her feast right into my house
She played with her food
Who was not in the mood
To be a banquet of mouse in the house
The nightmares that shadow my sleep
Stampede the proverbial sheep
Right out of my mind
When I try to unwind
I find my appointment with sleep hard to keep
In her search for original truth
She met people unsavory and couth
She knitted and purled
But only unfurled
Yarns told by new age and old youth
Cat, suddenly pink,
Drinks her water from out of the sink
She looks so absurd
Since she’s been de-furred
I really don’t know what to think!
If one and one is two and two is four,
And there’s only two ways to go through a door,
Then, is earth up or down?
And, where is down town?
These are questions we need to explore!
A was that is an is
Tried to mind my biz
But I sent it packing,
Its presence was lacking
And I don’t have time for such shiz!
A couple who lived in Los Lunas
Loved the wide desert sky’s crystal blueness
They’d stare at the air,
Over here, over there
And rejoice at the feeling of newness
A cat with a very fat gut
Found it easier to walk on his butt
He’d drag it around
Across carpet and ground
And use it to slam the doors shut
Said the Missus to her dear Mr. Otter,
“There’s something I think that you oughta
Do before we get old
To protect us from cold –
You oughta make the hot water hotter!”
The ghosts who live up in my attic
Make noises that sound much like static
I’ve tried to send them away,
But they’re here to stay,
Those staticky ghosts in my attic
People often get stuck on what to call their fish
and in many cases come up with ridiculous things.
They imagine some kind of greatness, attached to
naming, and they name them Moby, or Jaws, or Hannibal.
Some are poetic and flowing like water- Eulalie
or Aolani( Ay-o-lawn-ee) which means "Heavenly Cloud."
Some joke, and call them Sushi or Chips
which no self respecting pet suspects the meaning of …..
or, they invoke nature -
Bubbles and Starlight or Pearl.
Once, I knew a puffer fish named Toto.
Springtime fills the air,
like laughing gas.
(Or maybe more like whiskey.)
The suburbs are drunk on the nectar of it's dawn.
are starting to dance.
(Or maybe they're just wobbling.)
They vomit whole families onto their lawn.
I watch them the same way dogs watch TV:
Confused and intrigued,
with a slight urge to pee.
The father cuts grass,
like a sleepwalker.
(Or maybe more like a zombie -
Ravenous for cheap beer, instead of brains.)
A six pack later,
he starts washing his car.
(Or watering his driveway.)
He's spreading on wax so he's set when it rains.
The mother kneels in dirt,
tending the garden.
(More like digging in a sandbox.)
Her spade is rusty. (Figuratively, at least.)
A sunset later,
she cooks family dinner.
(Or maybe orders some pizza.)
(If every mouth is fed, she can call it a feast.)
I watch them the same way dogs watch TV.
The son plays war games,
dying for fun.
(Or maybe more for practice.)
He whines about fruit drinks, as well as the heat.
A full pitcher later,
tweaking on sugar,
(Or maybe just corn starch.)
the war escalates, 'til its time to go eat.
The daughter makes a picnic,
inviting her toys.
(Or maybe not.)
(Her plastic spread can only spread so thin!)
After the tea time,
she's off picking flowers.
(Or maybe weeds.)
(As long as they're pretty, there's a vase that they'll fit in.)
They gather, as a family, at the table to say grace.
They hold each others' hands and say, "Amen."
(And proceed to stuff their face.)
The dog sits by the boy -
Loyal and true.
(Or maybe just hungry.)
He drools as he stares from the corners of his eyes.
he offers to help with the dishes.
(Or maybe he demands it.)
The boy sneaks him a bite. The dog is not surprised.
Bedtime comes soon after.
The kids are sent to brush their teeth.
(Or maybe just to run the sink.)
They put on their jammies, and to bed, they go.
After tucking them in,
the parents watch TV.
(Or maybe they just dream they do,
sleeping in its glow.)
The dog is changing channels,
looking for a better show.
Confused and intrigued,
he pees on the carpet below.
There he comes to say good morning, mommy.
My cat Louie with eyes of gold, stripes that
wrap around him from head to tail.
On his paws he has white socks.
He comes meowing loudly making sure I hear him.
he wants me to know 'his dish is empty and his fat belly
is too' again he meows 'Mommy get up and feed 'me'.
As I get up and I am walking into the kitchen he decides
to bloop him self at my feet, rolling, yawning and wanting
me to see his furry fat empty belly.
See mommy this belly needs to be filled up!
I tell him he is a beautiful boy, up he comes
looks at me and meows 'now for kitty sake
It was time to visit the vet
With a specimen from my pet
I scooped a lump of coal
But the cheap bag had a hole
Now, I'm driving in a cold sweat
Nauseous, I cannot elude
The smell of what Winnie pooed
Rotten eggs are preferred
Over smelling dog terds
And her ripe farts are far less rude
By Rhonda Johnson-Saunders
for PDs Pooping Contest
*Yes, my dog is named Winnie after Winnie the Pooh by my son.
We call her Winnie Bear
Oh lonely Inevitable Bear,
Padding claws, death in white
Sorrow in recurring nightmare
Instinct’s test; fight or flight?
Camouflage against the fence,
A challenge; my subconscious fear
Ominous slowly moving silence,
“Let me in, there’s a bear out here!”
Some cat entered my room one night
I thought it was a ghost
It smelled like something had just died
But I must oblige my guest as the host
I turned on the light and there it was
An obnoxious opossum at best!
Whoa! Forget my host duties, cous!
Take the room—I’m an unhappy guest!
I left the house with a shutter
Before I realized I was heavily surrounded
By cats on all sides, up and under
The house they had all just rounded!
In truth I was perturbed on all levels
That I began to realize in horror
That damn opossum had spawned these little devils!
And tonight I must end this terror!
I then ran straight to the kitchen
Aware of the opossum inside
If I give up the tuna and ditch um’
Perhaps I’ll escape this night alive
The persistent cats scratched at the holes
Those buggers—those meddlers!
They could have been thieves—if not trolls!
Their yowls would scare sumo wrestlers!
Worst of all in this dilemma
Tomorrow was grocery day
There were no more cans of tuna
All my fish had swam away!
Somehow one got in
And the rest came barreling through
I ran toward my room to him
The opossum looked so distressed and blue
The little beady eyes pierced my soul
And I knew from then on he was my friend
He only meant to hide from the furry little trolls
And escape a most pitiful end!
I made up my mind at last
And picked up my trusty broom
Come on in—I dare yah tah pass!
Ain’t no feline coming through this room!
Glowing eyes burned with intent
And the yowling grew loud as hell
The little bullies think they can take my guest!
They’ll fly like birds they will!
That night was a battle like none other
A battle I will proudly say I won
I gained the friend of my life—a brother
My pet’s a load of fun!
As much as I love a neighbor cat
They are a little scary as a race
Thankfully a broom will push them back
And put them in their place
My opossum is a sweet little thing
And I protect him with my life
I’ll never judge a critter again
Till actions bring it to light
I am sorry,
I am very sorry,
This is for my daughter
I mean my young, beautiful pet.
That was it, the voice of my friend
Who now prides himself
Of another daughter across the street
Only God knows how many of such
I mean those susceptible to his carrot.
Indeed, very young
Full of life to live
Looking innocently attractive
Until he crept into her life.
Her Aunt’s door left ajar
She fell like a pack of card.
He dazzles her Aunt with intermittent gifts
He branded the girl “My daughter”
My innocent friend became a father
And dangles before his daughter a lanky carrot.
As times tickles away,
The daughter not only eats the golden carrot
But she swallows it gently with exactitude
Yet, her Aunt saw no changes
When carrots thickens her sister’s hips
And her flat buttocks getting curved roundly
While her chest pointer getting shaped
Her Aunt still blinded with gifts of “Suya and bread”.
Here comes this day knocking
As my friend’s daughter
Vomits and coughs repeatedly,
She feigned to be well before her Aunt.
“Nothing, I’m okay”
She smiled to her friends
And pretends to all
But grim only at her father
The act got caught short
Not for too long,
Now we all know,
That she has swallowed her father’s carrot
And it got stucked in her throat.
When?, Where?, Who?, her Aunt queried
Three months ago, she retorted
My . . . My . . . My . . . father, she replied.
Before eyes got blinked,
My friend’s was out of town
In search of another daughter.
Alayande Stephen T.
4th August, 2007
Spiced up for my good friend Tope and his daughter.
It all happened on my visit to Abuja.
Suya- An Hausa language (from Nigeria) for roasted meat.
Dragon Slayer! Dragon Slayer! Just say it isn’t so! Just Look at that cutesy face!
Behind the scary teeth, fire, and smoke… Choke…Ah… he’s gentle to embrace!
Moody, sulky, get even-ish, is truly he. But to have him, is so cool… and so hot!
And, I truly do mean Hot! Fire retardant suit’s a must, as there’s fire… often, a lot!
He’s just a baby, waiting to be taught. I tried to teach him, how to fly me thru the air.
Instead, he dumped me in a treetop, it took all day to get down, until I despaired.
To help me down, he lit the tree afire, as his wings errantly fanned the roaring flames.
I jumped, and he smiled a toothy grin, because I was safe, he steadfastly claims.
I’m on crutches, nearly bent his tail. But he loves me, you can tell, see he puffs at me!
Grandpa Troll gives us time out, when there’s a tiff, as my dragon, is petulant, you see.
At times, he sits across the lake from me, blowing fire and smoke ¾ across the lake.
He’s such a sensitive thing, he took my couch to the lake, upon sitting, it did break.
I got upset and called him fat…he tried to steam me, as fire is such, a No- No.
For, he had learned to not throw fire… at least when Grandpa Troll is, there, tho…
He needs to be first, the center of attention, seen in his cunning life’s plots, galore!
He taught my Trolls a happy dance, while waiting their first boat ride. Silly Dragon!
They sunk my boat! It's believed, he was getting even for being last in line, you think?
And he stomped off, perturbed, when told no more rides until the boat is unsink-ed.
He’d been last, for breaking my roof for another (fourth) time, but it will soon be fixed.
You see, he gets lonely, while waiting for me, to come outside to play, the little minx!
He CAN be hard on insurance, as I got cancelled and my bills are higher than a kite!
And when the Supreme Leader of the Universe, came to our picnic on a motorbike…
Dragon, accidentally, released his Dogs of War, while sitting on his Harley Bike.
Honestly, the flat tires can be fixed, the body unbent, and the spokes were given back.
I explained they weren’t HIS toothpicks… he truly looked sad as sad can be, at that.
Never fear, we caught the Dogs of War before they had time to… do great harm.
You can just imagine how great this dragon will eventually be, when all grown up.
Dragon Slayer, indeed! Grandpa Troll gave him to me. He’s sweet as sweet can be!