When daddy brought you
home l loved you instantly.
You were my friend and
Throughout the years you
became part of the family.
My love for you will never end
it's a special place in my heart
reserved for you alone.
As l look back down memory
lane. I remember the day you
left us. That sad day is forever
engraved in my memory.
On this day you ran out the gate
into on coming traffic and got hit
by a car. I cried until the tears had
no longer fell. I was devasted l not
only lost my pet dog, I lost one
of my family members.
Daddy buried you in the back yard
of the old house. Rest in peace my
beloved Big Red.
Contest: My pet
Copyright © Alexis Y.
I believe in Heaven, and I believe dogs, as well as humans, go there. I had my own dog
once upon a time, a Miniature Eskimo named Ollyver. Each night I’d find him waiting on the
other side of the door to jump up into my arms when I came home from work. When he got
older, I was forced to give him up, and I’d always wondered what became of him.
One night I dreamed I awoke to find him by my pillow, staring at me with his wistful brown
eyes. So vivid was that dream that my soul flooded with joy as I gathered him up and felt
his soft fur against my arms and face. It was the realest dream I’d ever experienced. He
would have been quite old by then, so I like to believe he came back that night on his way to
Heaven to tell me goodbye.
I imagine Ollyver, as well as my other precious deceased pet, a cat named Callie, in that
bright new place, sitting by its Pearly gates, biding their time, waiting just for me! I hope one
day, in the Hereafter, to gather those sweet pets of mine up into my arms!
* This is an excerpt from a longer work which included another animal I called Church Dog,
but I could not fit the whole narrative onto this page, so this is the part that tells about two
pets that I lost. Andrea Dietrich
For Constance - a Rambling Poet's mini-blog contest: All Creatures Great And Small
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich
My daughter`s budgie "Sissie" died a late night
The next morning I told her that "Sissie" was dead
With tears on her eyes and cheeks, she asked her mom
- Is "Sissie" in heaven with God and grandmother ?
- Yes, she is with God, grandmother and the angels
I answer her
Surprised at this answer, my daughter investigate
whether it was true
She walks into the room where the cage with
the budgie used to stand
After a short while, she runs back to mom....
- Mom, mom.... God has not only taken "Sissie"
- God has taken the cage too
This is a true story - - - from gold child`s mouth
dedicated to: Laila A.Mjelde
A-L Andresen :9
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Copyright © Anne Lise Andresen
A most unfortunate event
has occurred at our house.
It's embarrassing to admit,
We have a resident mouse.
The elusive little devil
has avoided every trap.
Though set in various places,
we've yet to hear a snap.
We have a playful tomcat
who loves his toy mouse,
carries it clutched in his teeth
to flip, toss and pounce.
Unfortunately, he performs
the same with a live one.
I'm urging, "Get it, kill it,"
he's too busy having fun.
Again and again he turns
it loose, enjoying the chase.
The mouse runs for his life,
hopeful of winning the race.
The crafty little victim
eludes the slothful brute,
scuttles down a heat vent,
leaves Tom to other pursuits.
Whereupon he saunters around,
searching for his toy mouse.
We're left with a useless cat
and a mouse in the house.
Copyright © Cona Adams
She smiles all day she thinks it' s o.k.
She makes weird sounds and it's all day
My Aunt I asked will you not make that silly sound today?
My Aunt looked at me and said why? she always say
In public she snorts when she laughs and I get that
But when things get out of hand she scares my the cat
I have a cat but my Aunt well she kinda sat
Poor little cat it was now a furry little mat
I get really mad at her, but she seems to make me smile
Because one day we walked, she sang me a song about a mile
I was happy because she ran out of gas at last
She also could not speak at all, and that was a blast
Although she could not speak
She kept smiling she once never look bleak
My Aunt Willy who's Silly is the person who never does things in half's
I can not express any louder she makes me smile with laughs
Copyright © Reynaldo Mast
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
Copyright © Carolyn Henderson
In an old Victorian building lives two cats and a lady
The girl cat is Patches and the boy cat is called Peanut
And the lady is called Dear Heart, they all live in harmony
One day, Dear Heart decided the cats needed to have collars
So she bought a pink one for Patches and a blue one for Peanut
Each collar had a little bell that tinkled and tinkled as the cats walked
Now, Patches loved her collar but Peanut twisted about
He flopped on his back, putting his paws inside the blue collar
Finally, the bell fell off and he pounced after it across the room
As Patches walked around her little bell went tinkle, tinkle, tinkle
Peanut was determined to get that bell and became quiet the pest
Dear Heart talked to Peanut telling him to stop and leave the bell alone
When Dear Heart came home from work the cats came
She reached to stroke Patches and noticed the pink collar
The bell was missing, she looked at Peanut, bad cat she said
Where the bells went is still a mystery that may stay unsolved
Patches still has her pink collar, she likes to show it off for visitors
Peanut totalled destroyed his within days and was very proud of that
Written by Constance La France
October 27, 2012
In Memory of Peanut the Cat
Copyright © Broken Wings
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.
Copyright © Bob Quigley
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.
© 2015 Diane Lefebvre
Copyright © Diane Lefebvre
Some sounds like the noise of bees
Hovering around the atmosphere
Or like rain drops on our roof tops,
I opened my round window
The window of my hut,
I wanted to know
Why my sleep won't mellow,
All i saw was sorrow
As the atmosphere turned green.
The cassava farm was over shadowed
Banana plantation feebled,
Apple orchard struggled
Yet their efforts stifled,
Lemon grass for mama's herb withered,
Rose flower shattered and our
Groundnut farm tattered.
Suddenly,the green army fled,
Tears exuded from my eyes
As i sputtered in pain,
Mother filled with melancholy,
Father tore his heart in grief
Villagers hope captured and crippled,
So their travail displayed as
Everyone mourned over
The locust plaque.....
BY: CHARLES MELODY (LIGHTNING INK).
Copyright © Charles Melody Lightning Ink
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.
Copyright © Diane Lefebvre
Christy, Christafur Cat.
Was a southern cat.
His ancestors came from the south of Spain.
His Great, Great, Grandfather was a
venturesome Cat who came across the Seven Seas.
Not Long after that he met another southern
Cat This one from the heart of Georgia.
As the years came and went History was
recorded by some other Cats.
To which Christy, Christafur, Cat asks.
Why is that? How do you know that?
Can you prove that? Is that a fact?
My dear Christy, Christafur, Cat I
really don’t know. You are such a Loveable
Cat. That is that. YOU CAT!
John H. Hardison..
Copyright © John Hardison
If deserted, was I, on an island, and was allowed only three integral items to take with me, what would they be?
If we are speaking of material things, I suppose I would take my favorite book in the whole world, "Ask Dr. Mueller" by Cookie Mueller. It is a book I cherish, and can read perpetually because it's just that good.
If, by some strange coincidence, there happened to electricity on the island, and an old, abandoned, yet functional CD player just so happened to be found, then I would want my favorite album in the world with me: "Live Through This" by Hole. I worship Courtney Love and her music. She is a grunge Goddess to me. I love every song on that album.
If pen and paper could magically count as just one item, then I would take mountains of paper and a plethora of pens so I could record everything and continue writing poetry while hoping to be rescued.
My acoustic Gibson Epiphone means the world to me; I cannot imagine not having it with me. I know how to play all the songs off "Live Through This", so perhaps I would choose my guitar instead; that way I can still enjoy those songs as I still compose more of my own; that makes sense, right?
If, by Divine Intervention, there was an abandoned, yet functional TV and DVD player, I would have to consider taking all seven seasons of "The Golden Girls"; I don't think I could survive without the Golden Girls; it's my favorite show ever. And also all of the "Star Wars" movies; those I cherish, too.
And also, since I am an addict/alcoholic, I would want to take tons of pills, whisky and Cola with me; I'm sure I could not survive without those.
I understand that perhaps people or pets may not be considered as "items", but if I could choose among them, well, I would have to take my loving partner, my best friend of twenty years and my two dogs, Sammy and Bilbo, and my three kitties: Marley, Archie and Punky (of course I count them all as one because I like to break the rules).
Since there are so many things I do not think I can live without, it's an impossible decision. But these are my considerations, nonetheless.
*What Would You Take Contest Entry
Copyright © Just That Archaic Poet
She curled her tail around her toes,
Covering whiskers, chin and nose.
An ear twitch here, another there;
She claimed as hers the easy chair.
Tormentor of both mole and mouse,
She spent the summer out of house.
Plundered, pillaged, night and day,
No mercy for dim witted prey.
Summer passed and then the fall,
As bitter cold left wintery pall.
The feline wanted none of that;
Once more she posed as family cat.
She lay about each day and night:
Purred when stroked and feigned delight.
Her bowl, her chair and toilet place,
Were all she claimed as sovereign space.
The season wore on long and cold.
Outside most life seemed put on hold.
The feline lay there still as dead,
Entombed within her winter bed.
Come now the spring with days of fair;
The old cat stretched within her chair.
A well placed nose near open sill;
She felt the much diminished chill.
Then rushed to door that still was closed.
Cries from her pleading throat arose.
Weaving through her mistress legs;
"Let me out," brash feline begged.
As chipmunk fed in hemlock crotch,
Unfettered cat dashed off the porch.
With one quick scramble up the tree;
A winter cat she ceased to be.
Do we not marvel at her grace,
Ere all those months confined in place?
The cat resumes with guileless ease,
Her summer reign of fields and trees.
Copyright © Diane Lefebvre
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'.
Copyright © Diane Lefebvre
The light is fading, evening breaks
Between the oaken woods and lake,
It's time to finish with the row
And homeward bound, the trail to take.
With rake in hand I turn to go
To find my pick axe and the hoe,
When from the trail there ran a buck
And right behind him came two doe.
At first I thought, what rotten luck!
I'm here, my rifle's in the truck,
Then, as he stopped to look my way
He gave his tail a flip and tuck.
And then he spun and bounced away
The doe behind him sleek and grey,
Crashing through the brush and vine
Into the woods and welcomed shade.
He must have sported twenty tine
I thought as Shadow starts to whine,
Asking, should he give him chase?
I pat his head in soft decline.
The sun is gone upon my face
To lose the buck is no disgrace,
Although today I've been undone
There'll be another time and place.
Today the buck has rightly won
The hunters gone, the season done,
Perhaps we'll meet again next year
Before the season's had it's run.
The buck was ancient, and I fear
He may not see another year,
But then, another year is seldom clear
For man, or dog, or antlered deer.
Timothy I. Brumley
Copyright © Timothy Brumley
There once was a little Jack Russell
who was as sweet as she was cute
and went by the nicname of hoot.
Now in the evening the
family would gather
to spend family time together.
Everyone including Hoot was there.
Me on the couch
the kids on the floor
and dad in his favorite chair.
As we sat there a smell most foul
quickly filled the air.
It seems our sweet little hoot
had let loose with a toot
and now we are all fighting for air.
Copyright © Terry L. Allen
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.
Copyright © Diane Lefebvre
The temperature plummeted to 26 last night
I figured something like that
When I discovered the cats
On my bed
In fact, side by side
No batting or hissing involved
So according to Fluffy,
Hades froze over
Copyright © KJ Hooten
Leo was a feline, passed away at nine.
She lived six years in the house where
She was born. Her Mother was a stray
Michelle fed at the curb. Elsa was a
Stray, half-dead. Smelled the goldfish
We had in a pond in the backyard.
A can of tuna brought her back to life.
Diedra and Gary are my beautiful kids too.
I am a Mom to all of God's beautiful ones.
Copyright © June Ellen Smith
She scurried throughout the kitchen
With her echoing meow
Right into the bedroom....
Couldn't imagine what Samii was up to?
She started to poke in and around
A mound of folded clothes
On the left hand side
Of the bed.
She kept poking, and poking further
But the pile of clothes
Collapsed on top of her,
Only to find her poking deeper
And deeper inside.
I could only see
That from her hips
Back to the tip of her tail
With such intensity
That her hips
Did sway, sway, and SWAY
With such force
Until she finally got
Her catch of the day!
She glanced aside at me
As if to say:
"I will do what you tell me: To obey!"
So without hesitation
She leaped off my bed
And with pride in fulfilling her duty
Managed to corner her opponent
In the bedroom
Beneath the window
Towards the bay.
Running along the baseboard,
From one end to the other end
This cat and mouse game
Lasted for five minutes or so,
As if they were friends at play,
But after all that she did
The mouse had apparently
Outwit her match
And must have sneaked
Into an unnoticed hole
And did finally get away!
However, only twenty four hours later,
The mouse that got away
Was eventually Samii's catch of the day!
Copyright © Valerie Ann Thomas
Mom and Dad rescued him when he was only two.
When I was three he was bigger than me,
I'd brush his shaggy hair, he'd just stand there
and wait until I was done, then shake and
he'd look like he had before I'd begun,
because of that we called him Tramp -
a big fir ball with clumsy feet
that looked like big slippers
and he was never neat, except
for being the neatest dog ever!
Well, I grew and was finally bigger than he,
but it sort of never felt that way to me.
There's something about a boy and his dog
that even best friends can never replace.
One day I came home from school
and Mom said he had died.
I went off on my own and cried;
to me he was always bigger -
always will be.
Craig Cornish, Sep. 13, 2015
For the My Pet contest
Copyright © craig cornish
I was ‘ Walking ’ back from grocery shopping
When I saw something, that had me hopping…
… mad, I mean… at what I seen
… a Man treating a Dog, just like a Queen !
They rode past in a top-down car
She had shades on, like a Movie-Star
My bags dropped down, due to shock…
… Now… What She got, that I ain’t got?
… Her big ears blowing in the wind
Now, I know, that’s Man’s Best Friend
But the only reason, I figured, I was Walking
is ‘cause I need a new kind-of-Talking :
Bow-Wow! Get my tail to Wagging
Bow-Wow! Ain’t too Proud for Begging
Bow-Wow! Learn another kind of Language
Bow-Wow… … see I can Manage …
I’m slowly Learning How
- to Bow-Wow
and it’s Alright Now
Now, I knew, something was wrong with that Sight
Can my Bark, be worse than Her Bite?
I started to Listen to the Canine next Door
Yapping and a Howling – made ‘em give Her More…
Then I hung around the Local Pet-Shop
I Finally figured out “What They Got !”
The next Man came, I Said, “They’s Expensive,
You may as well, get yourself a ‘Mrs’…”
Bow-Wow! Get my tail to Wagging
Bow-Wow! Ain’t too Proud for Begging
Bow-Wow! Learn another kind of Language
Bow-Wow… … see I can Manage
I’m slowly Learning How
and it’s Alright Now
Well… We were already happily Married, when He said, “Let’s get a Dog”
I sat up straight… went to sniffing, as silent-whistle-warnings, went off
I jumped in front of Him … and started to Tease…
“We don’t need nothing ‘round with Fleas !”
… and if You scratch behind My Ears,
I’ll make the kind of noise, you love to Hear ! …
Bow-Wow! Move Over Rover
Bow-Wow! Fe-Fe, Its Over !
Bow-Wow! This is My Growler
Git’ A Little Louder … Bow – Wow !
Bow-Wow… Wuff Wuff Wuff
Carol Brown… This One’s For You Kiddo’
And Your Great Sense of Humor (Smile)
This Poem is From Bygone Days
(Wouldn’t You Know… The Silly One’s Always Survive)
Hope You Enjoy It….
Copyright © MoonBee Canady
Horatio, you sly and cunning feline.
You think you're smart.
Yes, you think I don't know what
you do when I go to work.
But I know, old boy, I know.
I know that you clean your slick gray fur
in front of the mirror.
I know that you make sure that
your collar is straight
and that your whiskers are trimmed.
You have to look your best
when she's there, don't you?
I know that you invite that calico
from the garden over
when I'm at work.
I know that you two play my Coltrane records-
to get you in the mood.
I can picture you two tapping your paws
and bobbing your furry heads to the beat,
feeling the groove,
digging that sax.
I can picture you laying next to her.
Your tail moving like a pendulum,
Your yellow eyes giving her
that "come hither look."
When I come home,
there is a plume of blue cigarette smoke
hanging in the air
and there are two empty wine glasses
with paw prints on the coffee table.
And you Horatio,
lie there in the blanketing sunbeam
from the window,
pretending to daydream of mice.
Copyright © Matt Kindelmann
The cat is the only one
who understands me
No ridiculous questions from him;
no judgment so far
Sleeps all the time,
therefore thinks nothing of my daytime naps
Very much on his terms wants to be petted,
more often wants to hide under the bed
So much like me
Freaks out when strangers come around;
likes to mess with those he knows
do not like him
Licks my hand and rubs on my legs
when he knows I’m down
But is not needy in return
His eyes are deep pools of understanding
Copyright © Kelly McDonald
Since the day she was born
It was love at first sight...
She would stretch
With all of her might
To reach the sofa cushion
To lay down next to her master.
And love and affection,
Nurtured a special bond
And the fulfillment
Of everlasting joy.
Her spontaneity of idiosyncrasies...
Nudging her ball with her nose,
Affectionate kisses, or even,
Stepping on your toes
Just to let you know
She is always there.
Jaunts along the sea wall,
Swimming in the bay,
Walking down the street...
Whatever I do,
Wherever I go,
She is always there for me.
She's my best friend,
Always and Forever1
Copyright © Valerie Ann Thomas
In the bitter cold of the foggy dawn
Their heels I hear on the hard grounds below
Yet another day to work it all
And the master gets to keep all the pay
As obedient as they may
They head to where the heavy cart stays
Drums filled with pales of water
All day they pull this way and that way
Carts filled with heavy construction materials
Every day they pull this way and that way
Whether it rains or shines
Everyday there is load to be pulled away
Theirs is work bound by fate
Perhaps a purpose to which they were made
Perhaps a punishment of which they must pay
But what gives me a little comfort
Is that even they after a whole day of toil and pain
Even they get to spend some time away from the misery of the day
Even they get to dream of better days when heaven will employ their grace
The night is truly divine
For it offers my kindly donkeys an escape from the brutality of hard days without pay
The night offers my kindly donkeys escape from their enslaved ways
Copyright © Wiseton Prins
Went to sleep early to prepare for a bright new day....
I was shocked to hear my cat scrambling towards my bed.
But I didn't realize that as I turned on the light
She was rampantly chasing a mouse through the hallway onto my bed!
I screamed as I flung my bedspread in the air to get rid of the mouse.
But to my dismay, as I put on my slippers, only a few inches away,
I awoke to see that a mouse was staring at me! Two-thirty in the morning!
I just screamed and hurriedly grabbed a few tissues
In my attempts to remove this hideous tormenting invasion.
It landed in the hallway right next to my oriental rug
Only to be clawed by my hero Samii !
A thought came to mind: "Oh, no! I forgot to remove that dead mouse
That was on the sticky trap in my kitchen drawer, that's way behind."
I took a peek but only to find not one, but two small mice!
"Oh, God! Three mice within twenty-four hours!
How could I understand....under what circumstances? Why me?
Hoping I could get back to sleep, I don't know how,
How I managed to get up before my 5:30 alarm clock went off.
I woke up suddenly, shivered and shrieked,
That I Could Have Slept Beside That Darn Mouse!
Copyright © Valerie Ann Thomas
i go in the morning,
as i normally do, and
warm my cup of coffee,
robust awakenings to today,
sit down and begin to arouse and
contemplate the day before me
after a bit, i move about and
down the last of the cup,
then i swish the final in
and i realize immediately
and run to the kitchen sink
a few steps away
...and spit out.
i look down and see
a dark form in the sink
unmoving, i mindfully think,
a fly, as dead as...day
with revulsion i feel
the solidness still
within my mouth bouncing
across my tongue,
and glance again
to the bottom of the sink
and spy the second fly!
two dead flies i surmise
were stroking in my cup
in the romance of the night,
buzzing vaguely French soundings
between them, ripples expanding
in their caffeinated pool
"aaah, my dear you make me
feel so alive! so energized!"
"oooh, i too feel alive my love
in this cool dark water
with you...drowning beside me"
and i wonder if these
anthropomorphic house flies
really loved each other...really,
and would prefer to...go down,
together rather than fly alone
past one more night of
speeding blissful intercourse
touching, still, it leaves a
peculiar taste in my mouth
© Goode Guy 2011-10-04
a guy, alas, a true story.
four days later, i wake and
find my cup in the kitchen.
a bit more savvy now
i dump the inch or so
left in the cup, in the sink
a dark form, forlorn, lies still
the winged jilted lover,
i think, how bittersweet,
that the third too, wished
to commit caffeinated suicide
now that the pot is hot and
a new day is possible
© Goode Guy 2011-10-08
Copyright © Goode Guy
is the name of my wild
and incorrigible cat...
down the stairs she scurries
to keep intruders off my door;
and she, with her sharps claws,
challenges the most vicious dogs,
who would like a match
on my newly carpeted floor...
without letting me breaking up the fight!
eat your food and grow strong,
they will be back with their groan,
but your meows won't do much;
let me teach you how to win a fight
and keep them off for good...
more faith you must have in me!
come here and jump in my lap;
Faberette...there's no need for fright!
They haven't bothered you for a week now,
they must have sensed a change indeed;
and like friendly dogs they play and crawl,
instead of pulling off your spotted fur!
And cautiously you mingle with them with minimal fear...
can cats and dogs in friendship suceed?
But a word of caution I should make you aware of,
not all of them can change
and remain tame for long...
Faberette, be slicker than they are!
on my leather couch lies
under a warm blanket...
I pat her, and her feline eyes
flash the warmest glow; and I couldn't be
more proud of this wonderful pet,
keeping me company and share moments of joy!
And on her birthday, I even buy her a kitten toy!
my adorable cat!
Copyright © Andrew Crisci