Your dad, a Dachshund once stuck in Chihuahua.
The best of both in you, with that expectant
Confusing carpets for the lawn enigma.
I know….the raining….getting wet….you can’t.
As coldness chills the room, a sheet for you.
The perfect tucking of in, but you moved!
I ponder, just how crazy is my Boo?
The sheet’s thread count too low to be approved?
Your dance in circles, spinning on the floor.
Rewards and treasures known upon the racks.
Induced by meals and that one pantry door.
In such a fury, choking on the snacks.
I know what God’s book says, I’ve searched it whole.
But still, I hope you have a little soul.
Copyright © rob carmack
What’s In The Urn
Strangers offered me to join them in a drink
I met them on a mountain edge while skiing
They seemed like friendly normal people then
So what could happen in a simple cabin?
Finding that which is not there or vanquished
What is there that cannot be perceived?
Placed upon the mantel piece are ashes in the cabin
Brass vase, a receptacle for lost souls sits in repose
A death vase to glare at over cognac
By the sober flames cast by
A fire place glow observed in action
Liquid spirits pour out their poison
In the cozy living room inside the cabin
Drinks alone cannot remove this feeling of distraction
The urn is piercing through my soul
People belong in cemeteries you know
With all due respect for the dead
Scatter them at sea when they‘re deceased
Not paraded around in gloom to cause unease
Or as a center piece for living rooms
I’m not relieved to find it is a lizard on the shelf
To be exact, an exotic iguana family friend entombed
And to assume that fact makes this matter optimal
I beg to differ on that point and voice my opinion later
There must be a plot of ground outside
Or toilet somewhere to flush it down
But better left unsaid, as they are bereaved about the death
And I am their invited guest
Iguana tried consuming the family’s cat
Another favorite pet
It is surmise, that’s how it met its end
Ended up expired inside the urn
The receptacle was there and going nowhere on its own
I swear it follows me from room to room
By embers glow and ash, shadowing my every move
A brass smile casting off the urn, leaving me concerned
I could not take my leave
The container followed me
So I waited, fixated on the thing
Is it coming back to life to eat more bugs or me?
Finding that which is not there
Is easier in the dark
Rising to the occasion of the day that breaks
I must escape the premises to continue skiing
Into the frozen world outside I fly
With no discernible signs or paths to lead or learn
I get away, no time to say good-byes or find my way
Never again will I say; what’s in the urn
Copyright © Earl Schumacker
Adopted animals love their humans;
show it in many ways.
The tiniest pet,
revels in the harmony of its time,
Dinky was a special hamster;
she lived a year beyond the normal life span.
I carried her around in my pocket and she loved the ride.
Her head, peeking out, evoked curious comments
from all who glimpsed her.
She searched for me, when I was at school;
her knack for escaping the cage,
kept me searching for her in the afternoons.
I often found her, in my chest of drawers.
Of course, I found it odd,
but hamsters are four-legged, Houdini’s…
Dinky was the best.
One cold winter night, as I lay in slumber,
That tiny traveler made her way from,
one end of the house, to my bedroom.
I lay there, on that frosty eve,
reaming that I was outside in the rain;
the chilling raindrops, dancing upon my arm.
In a moment of lucidity,
Reality hit; those raindrops were tiny paws!
I reached, grasped and in the shimmering moonlit rays,
I stared into the eyes of my new bed buddy.
A twitchy nose said it all…
”I found you!”
I moved her cage close by my bedside;
future escapes faded into history.
Copyright © M. L. Kiser
My puppy sure loves to lick me
He thinks I’m a lollypop.
Every time I get home he attacks me
Then kisses me nonstop.
You’d think I was gone forever
When I just left the house for the mail,
He is right at the door when I get back
With a rapidly wiggling tail.
He wants to eat everything I do,
Mom says, that’s not good for a dog.
We want to keep him fit and healthy
So daily we go for a jog.
My toys are all tattered and ragged
My socks are his ultimate aim,
Doesn’t matter how much it upsets us
He thinks it’s all some kind of game.
I know he’s a bit of a stinker
That always wants to be fed.
But I sure am in love with my puppy,
Every night when we cuddle in bed.
Written by Brenda Meier-Hans
Copyright © Brenda Meier-Hans
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
Copyright © Rick Zablocki
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
Bob had been a lonely man ever since
His wife of fifty years had passed.
“Lord, let me join her.” he would pray.
“Let this day be my last.”
Each day, he went to the cemetery,
Just a short walk down the street.
After their talk, he would water her flowers
And hear passers-by whisper, “How sweet.”
One gray and misty morning,
He had hoped for sunnier skies
To plant fall bloomers at her graveside;
But, there, to his surprise…
Stood an old dog beside her stone;
Thin and dirty, but he struck a handsome pose.
He whined as Bob approached, as if to say,
“I could use a friend, you know.”
He sat calmly as Bob planted flowers,
Carefully sniffing each one Bob put in place.
Then, after the last one was planted,
He sniffed it; then turned and licked Bob’s face.
Bob smiled. “I had a dog when I was young…
Pal…he was a mighty good one too.
So, if you don’t mind old fella,
That’s what I’ll call you.”
Pal may have been an old dog,
But he was smart and handsome in his way;
So they made a deal, Bob would give him a meal
And a bath, if he decided to stay.
Pal loved his bath, then rolled in the grass.
He slept on a blanket in the den.
In the night, he dragged it next to Bob’s bed.
He intended to be Bob’s best friend.
Pal was such a good dog, housebroken too;
Never made a mess or got in trouble.
He knew about newspapers, slippers and Frisbees;
And when Bob called, he ‘d come on the double.
Yes, Pal gave Bob’s life new purpose.
A special bond of friendship was cast.
And never again did Bob pray,
“Lord, let this day be my last.”
For twelve years, the very best of friends,
Together night and day;
And so it was, until one night,
Both quietly passed away.
The next morning, an old woman,
Tears welling in her sad and lonely eyes,
Brought flowers to her husband’s grave;
But there, to her surprise….
Stood an old dog beside the stone,
Thin an dirty, but he struck a handsome pose.
He whined as she approached, as if to say,
“I could use a friend, you know.”
He sat calmly as she took old flowers
And put fresh ones in their place.
He carefully sniffed the fresh ones,
Then turned and licked her face.
She smiled. “I had a dog when I was young...
a good one too. His name was Pal.”
Copyright © Robert Candler
Six shots rang out loud
Woke the jungle calm
My trained tiger hit
Landed on me hard
Good thing I am fat
We both could have died
10/16/14 Earl Schumacker - DESIGN YOUR TABLEAU – Poetry Contest
“You become responsible forever for what you've tamed.”
Copyright © Earl Schumacker
Kids Love For Animals ( Poem )
Children’s favorite shows are of animals
I have hours in a playlist that are laughable
Like a camera pecking rooster and fun monkeys
To a mom and a baby miniature donkeys
Videos of wild turkeys and charming geese
Ducks in water and chicks learning to speak
Dazzling ostrich and many free birds
Some you would not want to move towards
A large unique animal is the alligator
The total opposite of the caterpillar
Camels and alpacas are tall and exquisite
But they spit at you when you try to visit
There are also hornpout and catfish videos
and a painted box turtle that is really slow
Beautiful miniature horses and elegant ponies
Border collies herding sheep to earn their trophies
Little kids pig scramble is stunning to see
and a little fawn as precious as can be
Cow’s hair that needs braiding is fascinating
With the most assortment you’ve ever seen
Come to my view with me youtube channel
If the kids are being hard to handle
Just start it up and walk away
To get your housework done for the day
By : Doris Anne Beaulieu
At : https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLWSq_PMWxD9q2V0UVqzX50Y6Y2pDaKISv
Copyright © Doris Beaulieu
to a fault;
for their family.
Copyright © M. L. Kiser
First you got an alligator.
Next came a giraffe.
Lions ride your elevator,
bears hide in your bath.
run amok through all your rooms!
Soon, if you don't set them free - there will be no room for me!
Copyright © Lycia Harding
I've loved Agnes ever since the day that I got her.
She's the closest thing that I have to a daughter.
Since 1990, she's the only female dog that I've had.
When my former female dog died, it was very sad.
I named her after Mom and that makes her special indeed.
Agnes is a full stock Chihuahua dog, that is her breed.
She's special and unique, there can never be another.
Because she's named Agnes, it's like having a small part of my mother.
(Dedicated to Agnes, my Chihuahua dog.)
Copyright © randy johnson
When Duke arrives,
don't make a sound...
No cat survives
when Duke arrives.
Need all nine lives?
Don't be around
when Duke arrives!
Don't make a sound...
Copyright © Lycia Harding
Over the hillsides, together we burned space and time
Galloping with the wind...
Clouds took me by the hand,
Wind took you by the mane
Nothing outside our world could rival this perfect blend
Of motion, devotion, the sunshine and scented rain
I would close my eyes, and trust in the rhythm's rise
O' beautiful creature, your movements touched the very sky
Every stride, would sweep me to another world
Unfurled so far from all my childhood fears
As runaway dreamers,
we sprinted into the future of timeless memory
and heard the infinite past at the heels of your enchanted hoof
Where ancestors once felt this very connection
At one with nature, a blending of what is blessed
In the deep evening light of the first early, wintery chill,
as a comet that shoots through the eye of an in-coming storm
We were crystals, encased in a layer of ice and love
Just a trace of a moon, that sailed between the soft, leaden clouds
In the thrill of the cold, with the glorious snowflakes falling,
and the sight of your warm breath streaming,
there was white drifting smoke, in caress of the moonlight beaming
Indented, undefined, is a trail left behind
Such a moment is proof.... in all legends divine
That when snow falls around the hills, at the end of the day,
Nothing can erase that we passed this way
We were the messengers...that rode with the wind
That the hearts of species as wide as the universe
With spirits connecting two souls as one
Hearts can beat as one....drawn together, like poetic and timeless music
I am part of you....and you are part of me
And that both hearts can feel the same remorse when day is done
In memory of "Queenie".... an amazing Sorrel Quarterhorse,
who was born, at home, in our barn, and lived for 32 years
For the Contest: "PETS", sponsored by Shadow Hamilton 11/13/14
Copyright © Carrie Richards
Not long after The Beginning,
There were Animals and there was Man.
A great chasm lay between, that legend said
Only a Leap of Faith could span.
Animals seemed happy on their side;
For, after all, such a leap could not be done
“Make the best it,” they all said;
All, that is, but one.
There stood Dog, alone upon the brink,
The distant Man’s reflection shining in his eyes;
Something was robbing Dog of peace;
Something was urging him to try.
Compelled, he stood and stared,
Nothing could distract his gaze.
Now and then, Horse would come;
Each time, the same old words to say.
“I understand. I really do.
I admit it. I’ve thought about it too;
But it’s too far for me to jump,
It’s certainly too far for you”.
One day, as Horse spoke his words,
Cat rudely interrupted with a sneer.
“Go ahead and try. You’ll break your silly neck.
You can’t go there. Your place is here”.
More resolute now, his vigil became duty;
Still, he often wondered, “Why?”
But something deep inside kept saying,
“You must. You must. It’s do…or die”.
Then, one day, he turned and walked away.
Oh, yes, he’d need a running start.
He knew now, he had the Will;
But only a Leap of Faith could prove his Heart.
Just before he made his Leap of Faith,
Dog saw the loneliness in Man’s eyes.
“He needs a friend, someone to help
And always stand right by”.
With those unselfish thoughts,
Dog had reason, he felt whole.
And well he should, for at that very moment,
God granted Dog a Soul!
But Souls don’t come so easy,
And his leap was short that day.
If Dog was to make a Leap of Faith,
Man would have the final say.
Dog’s faith was truly tested, front paws upon the edge.
He hoped Man’s eyes hadn’t lied.
Then Man’s Heart swelled and touched his Soul.
He helped Dog up and placed him proudly at his side.
Oh, so jealous was Cat I’m told;
His eyes turned green that day.
“Oh, you are an heroic mutt;
A friend of Man, you say?
I’ll make that leap by myself.
You can bet, I’ll find a way”.
So, Dog had made the Leap of Faith.
He and Man became Best Friends.
So it shall be, for all eternity;
That is to say, until the Very End.
Copyright © Robert Candler
I miss you already, Buddy.
You’ve been the apple of my eye.
When I think of life without you,
It makes me cry. It makes me cry.
Oh, so many moments we've shared together,
From romping mischief and tummy rubs to those pesky fleas;
And nothing’s better than my puppy’s kiss;
You always try your very best to please.
You always curl up with me on the bed.
You always meet me at the door.
You run and jump and bark with such excitement.
Yes, Buddy, I know you couldn’t love me more.
And when all others fail me, Buddy,
My best friend is always there.
Through my very worst of times,
Your eyes and your attention said, “I care”.
Five to seven years for every one of mine
Is so little time... it’s hardly fair.
It must be God’s way of saying,
“Love them now… and well.
There’s precious little time to spare”.
But, if I should go before you, Buddy,
Love your new master without reserve;
And they will love you as you love them.
It’s what a great pup like you deserves.
I miss you already, Buddy.
You’ve been the apple of my eye.
Copyright © Robert Candler
It is the laziest of all creatures,
It could eat and eat filet all the day long.
Investigative eyes is a feature,
And it will sing to you its forlorn song.
It will avoid you like the plague by day,
Skulking, running, bounding, from room to room.
By night it searches through the halls for its prey,
The hunted will meet its impending doom.
The whisper of whiskers against the door,
Tip-toe, pitter-patter, sneakily creeps.
All at once bounding across the floor,
Whoosh goes the paw across the mouse hole deep.
“Drat!” says the cat, missed the mark once again,
Once more the mouse hunt will have to begin.
Copyright © Hanna Potter
THEY graze in beauty on the land
of grassy glades and dewy dales,
and all that's best of dark and tanned
meets in their aspect and their tails;
thus mellowed to that tender hand
which Shepherd to gentle glen compels.
One fleece the more, one spot the less,
had half-repaired the shearless grace
which wreathes in every woolen tress
or darkly tightens o'er their face,
where mouths serenely sweet express
how pure, how dear their grazing-place.
And on that rump and o'er that round
so fat, so plump, yet elegant,
the baas that win, the hooves that bound,
but tell of days in meadows spent—
a flock at peace with all around,
a drove whose milk is innocent.
01/26/2014, "First Poem On Soup" Contest
Copyright © Ngoc Nguyen
I've had many pets in my life.
Right now two cats and I abide
In my small house the size for us,
But I can't let this pair outside.
They're feral cats that I rescued
When wild coyotes invaded nests.
Wild coyotes on our rich farm land
Have become real cat-nab pests.
A neutered tom and spayed kitty
Have the full range of my loved home.
Their antics keep me entertained
And none of us now care to roam.
They run and play amicably
And gladly share their lives me.
Copyright © Joyce Johnson
Three of my chickens are dead and they have left a hole in my heart,
I want to mark their passing, prove that they were alive and very much loved by me,
They were real, breathing and full of life from the start,
Oh they made me laugh, so hilarious and quirky; such fun hidden away on our allotment,
They did no great deeds, were not famous and hardly anyone knew they were there,
Alert and trusting, they followed my steps, looked at me with their heads to one side, wondering and seeing,
They slept in my arms and closed their tiny eyes when I stroked under their beaks,
Laid eggs and loved wholemeal bread, sometimes combining the two in to a healthy treat in their run, pecking and pinching whatever they could,
Stood on my spade when I was trying to dig, and ate the biggest worms I ever did see,
Had me running in circles to catch them, jumped out of the hutch when I thought I’d put them in,
Kicked over their food tin so I’d give them more and always hid in the shed,
Rearranged their sleeping compartments when I had just cleaned them out, kicking the neat straw all over,
Ate all of my winter cabbages and nibbled at my sprouts, sat on the compost heap and looked around, Queens of the allotment!
Were brave in the face of danger, survived against the odds,
When poorly, they slept cozily in my basement, and understood when it was time to die,
They may have only been chickens to most, but to me they were my friends,
Always pleased to see me, they needed me, and greeted me loudly every day,
Three lives have been taken, but I will not forget them,
I will look back and smile, and talk kindly of Muriel, Edith and Ethel,
For they were the three hens that taught me that all life is precious, no matter how unnoticeable and small.
Copyright © Fran Slimon
Such a nose had Ol’ Blue.
Best in south Missouri... everybody knew.
Could smell a pheasant across the plain.
Could point a covey in a hurricane.
That’s the way the legend goes.
Ol’ Blue had a “magic nose.”
As Blue got older, his master’s mind would drift away
To a place where he and young Blue used to play.
In the mornings, sitting over his coffee cup
He found it sad there were no pups.
He thought it would be such a shame
If the only memory was Ol’ Blue’s name.
So, Jim was compelled and full of pride;
He made a search, far and wide,
To find Ol’ Blue a suitable mate.
No doubt, his offspring would be great.
It seemed likely, he supposed,
At least one pup would have his “magic nose.”
She was a Champion Miss from New Orleans,
A beautiful “red” named Cajun Queen.
But Blue suddenly passed away, before the pups were born.
Jim was broken hearted. He and “Queenie” mourned.
Then came the litter, but there was only one.
Jim struggled for hope; after all, he was Ol’ Blue’s son.
Dappled and lanky, a handsome little cuss,
He looked just like Blue. Jim made such a fuss.
Naming this pup would require no ado.
It was obvious. Officially, he would be “Blue Two.”
Oh yes, these were mighty large tracks to fill.
“Can he?”, folks asked. Jim would say, “Heck yes he will!”
So his nickname became “Two” and he seemed to be smart.
Soon it was time for his training to start.
The basics went well, but Jim’s outlook grew very dim
When, instead of pointing, Two would wag and jump and bark at him.
Oh, Two seemed to be trying; but try as he might,
He just could not seem to ever get it right.
“Blue’s son or not, he’s got to go!”
Jim found Two a “pet home” far away, in Tupelo.
On his way back, he stopped in Texarkana.
Been too long a time since he’d seen his sister Hannah.
Six days and six pounds later, he was back on his way.
Work at the farm was callin’ and he’d be drivin’ all day.
He thought about Ol’ Blue and wondered if and when
He’d ever have a birddog as good as Blue again.
Oh, he knew another “magic nose” was just a far off dream;
After all, it wasn’t something any man could scheme.
A “magic nose” was a gift from God, only given to a few;
And he was proud and very lucky just to have known Ol’ Blue.
As he turned into his drive, he broke into a smile.
“Why… I can’t believe it! It…It must be 300 miles!”
Two was on the porch, thin and dirty; but he struck a handsome pose.
Jim ran and hugged Two hard. “How’d you get back? Lord only knows!”
Suddenly Jim realized; and struck with awe, he slowly rose.
A tear trickled to his smile. “Why Two… you have a “magic nose!”
Two and Jim are best of friends, together everywhere.
From milkin’ cows to bedtime, Two is always there.
Jim doesn’t hunt much anymore, now Two’s a rescue dog.
Just last month, he saved a little girl lost in Cooley’s Bog.
Jim struts and tells proud, heroic stories;
While Two wags and jumps and barks, and shares his glory.
Jim boasts, “Like father, like son!”, then speaks fondly of Blue;
But all know the largest tracks to fill are those of Two.
His deeds are known far and wide,
And fill Jim’s heart with love and pride.
For with every rescue, the legend grows;
About a dog named Two, and his “magic nose.”
Copyright © Robert Candler
Now Noah and his fam'ly stood
Beside an ark of gopher wood
The'd builded for a century
And all the creatures (not a few)
Began to come in pairs of two
And slowly made their entry
A pair of fiery dragons came
And Noah had to keep them tame
To keep the fire in
But once a day they came unglued
So Noah's wife, she cooked their food
In pans of hammered tin
Now here's a thing that's really neat
These dragons slept at Noah's feet
All through those rainy catfights
When Noah donned his socks of brown
And went to shush the critters down
He took his pair of nightlights!
Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst
My Dog Bear
Let me tell you about our Bear
He’s a great big, clumsy beast
He’s got to be one hundred pound
That’s at the very least
Now he’s a crazy Rottweiler
He’s supposed to be pretty mean
Yet really he’s a great big softie
Aggression I’ve never seen
Our Bear is such a blessed wimp
One day while we were out
He nearly had me fly above him
As he dragged me all about
There was some thunder in the sky
That sure did frighten him
Next think he’s got me almost flying
As I’m hanging on like grim
He stopped at last, I was a mess
All bruised and bleeding some
And me I was so very angry
That he had been so dumb
He looked at me with big sad eyes
Then all that I could do
Was give him a stroke, and a gentle pat
But I’m a softie too.
Copyright © Peter Duggan
Goldie, my peculiar but beloved cat,
has certain affectations --
she prefers, most times, her own society
and shuns her housemates.
But, sometimes, she cuddles
or will join the others
to laze around -- in the living room,
the dining room, a hallway, or
in the kitchen.
An inside cat who, early on,
suffered the indignity of
she asserts her independence
by darting into the front yard
when a door is opened --
and she pointedly ignores
any calls or pleas to come inside.
But when the door shuts
and no one is around, she is fearful,
immediately climbing up into the ash tree.
And there she stays
until I come to coax her down.
She may climb high up
and, finally, shakily manage
a descent to allow me to pick her up
and carry her back inside.
She never leaves the yard
but does enjoy ignoring me
when I am in a hurry.
She will dart about and run
from one side of the yard to the other.
For her, it's only an infrequent game.
And, as my treasured pet,
she certainly deserves to play
while testing the limit
of my affectionate, chagrined
Copyright © Leo Larry Amadore
It seems like just the other day
Our pup, Shadrack, did pass away;
And altho’ they never seemed like friends,
My old cat, Jorg, knew Shad had met
his untimely end.
He mourned his loss every day
And looked for Shadrack everywhere.
He’d mew and moan as if to say,
“We were friends. I do care.”
Then one night, an eerie howl
Awoke me from my sleep.
He’d found Shad’s toys and left no doubt
That his feelings did run deep.
So our tedious search began
To find another likely pup;
But while my poor wife still grieved,
Could another measure up?
We went to Second Chance and Free to Live.
She just could not make up her mind.
She loved them all; but, if she picked just one,
The rest would have to stay behind.
Then, quite by chance, there was a “pound pup”
Who’d been picked up from the streets.
He was a mutt, a “schnauza-pug”;
But he was awfully sweet.
He jumped up and kissed her frantically.
He seemed aware of his “iffy” situation.
He made the best of his opportunity.
Tears of joy told her elation.
“This is the one”, she smiled through tears,
As she held him... oh, so tight.
“I’m sure that Jorg will like him too.
Everything will be alright”.
And so it was, until one day
When old Jorg did pass away…
There was no hesitation on this sad occasion;
Come Saturday morning, we went straight
to the pound,
Open minded and hoping to be “saviors”,
Surely a nice cat was to be found.
“Sadly”, the lady said,” three kitties have only today.
There’s Andre and Panda and another one too”.
My wife smiled and said, “Jorg was your boy. You pick.
They’re both beautiful cats. It’s up to you”.
As I pondered this commitment
Another cat, a young one, caught my eye.
Like Jorg, he was a common gray tabby.
Fond memories were stirred. I almost cried.
On closer look, his name was Boris;
And, strangely, he was number three.
There was a small sign on his crate,
“I don’t like other cats and other cats don’t like me”.
But there was character in his eyes and he was cute.
He was rolling and purring and stretching.
He seemed to look deep into my heart
And did his best to be quite fetching.
But because he was just a common gray tabby,
And because of the little sign,
His chances were slim, his future quite dim
And one day is precious little time.
For a moment I was lost in his eyes
And I heard his desperate plea,
“I’m a swell cat and litter box trained.
Take me. Please, take me”.
“Well”, my wife urged, “is it Andre or Panda”?
“One of us will take the other kitty.”, two older ladies chimed.
“You can each have one ladies”, I said with a smile.
I want Boris and he wants to be mine”.
In just hours he was romping and rolling with Pepper,
Who had happily welcomed his new friend.
Boris was a perfect fit, an affirmation;
The Circle of Life never ends.
Much more Joy than Sadness in this Circle,
And there should never be regrets.
Honor their memories and all the love they share,
Never break the Circle, never be without a Pet.
Copyright © Robert Candler
My dog is not a manly dog,
she’s my dog just the same
A manly dog rides in a truck
and retrieves the hunted game
My dog, she is a lady dog…
when we got her she was small
A little puff of fluffy fur…
all wrapped up in a ball!
They told us she would stay that way,
but her waistline it went south!
Everything that hits the floor
just ends up in her mouth!
A cookie here and a cracker there
now she’s a butterball.
And when she steps up on the scale,
the Vet’s face says it all!
I love the Pit Bulls’ bully grin
I love the Labrador
I love the Husky’s arrogance
And Sheep Dogs even more
But none of them would last a day
In my Dutch wife’s clean abode
But Mollie she has passed the test
and has never hit the road
I sure don’t feel real manly
when I take her for a walk
The neighbors they just kind of grin
But deep inside they mock
“That big ol’ guy; that little dog”…
I feel like such a sap!
Mollie really does belong
asleep on Grandma’s lap!
Now she’s getting on in years
her jump is not so high
She really hates to get her bath
when soap gets in her eye
The day will come when Mollie dies
and yes I’ll get choked up
Remembering my little puff
who once was just a pup!
March 23rd 2011
Copyright © david kettler
We bought a cow at the state fair
and loaded her on the truck
to take her home, but halfway there
we had a stroke of good luck.
We hit a rock, and from the crash
she bounced away down the hill,
she mooed and made an awful splash
in the stream beside the mill.
The water was still awful cold,
the cow already freezing…
resisting as we roped and pulled
her breathing turned to sneezing.
My father said this won’t end well,
he couldn’t have been more wrong.
He thought the cow, we ought to sell
but changed his mind before long.
We took her home, our shook up cow,
unloaded her in the barn.
We thought we’d let her sleep for now
then see to her in the morn’.
The next day, just around sunrise,
the cow already awake.
I milked, and to my great surprise,
I got a frozen milkshake!
Copyright © The Grahamburglar
He was just a little wiener;
our precious little pup
and I was just a toddler,
when my breakfast, he did sup.
How he loved his burgers;
ham he loved, as much.
He could quickly murder
bologna, cheese and such.
I toddled along behind him
his tail, I held in brace.
He didn't mind my toddler whims,
when we were face-to-face.
He was just a little wiener;
a playful little friend.
He had the best demeanor
and we loved him, to the end.
Entered in contest: Dachshunds
Sponsored by: Rob Carmack
Copyright © M. L. Kiser
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
Each morning, when I first awake;
a daily vigil, I will take.
I arch my back and I stretch out long;
this helps my body to grow strong.
To my box, I take a walk;
release a stench, in lime-like chalk.
I dine in silence, savoring;
the tasty flavors…mouth-watering.
Upon my favorite stool, I sit;
paws tucked beneath, belly and chest.
‘till I transcend, my physical home.
I am a Buddha-cat, you see
And a Bodhisattva, I hope, to be.
Copyright © M. L. Kiser