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Best Pets Poems

Below are the all-time best Pets poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of Pets poems written by PoetrySoup members

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New Pets Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Pets poems are below this new poems list.

Splash Pets by Davey, Brian
Ban Zoos and Be Good to Your Pets by Black, Robert
I love pets by Raynes, Lewis
Beloved Pets In The Hereafter by Kohlstaedt, Tamara M.
Love my pets contest by Custard, James
I Love My Pets - Peanut by Roper, Eve
Fluffy rabbits - I love my pets contest by One, Silent
Funny House Pets for Kids by Harding, Lycia
Louie's Pets by Martin, Mike
In Defense Of Homeless Pets by Deremer, Pam

View all new Pets Poems

The Best Pets Poems

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The Dog of my Life

Shakespearean Sonnet

I remember the day I picked you,
With your sweet little puppy dog eyes.
For my heart was searching for love too,
When I looked down and heard your soft cries.

Your brothers and sisters were running,
They were after a fallen clothes peg,
But there was a puppy so stunning 
Trying hard to get up on my leg.

Four years it has been since that moment
And I thank God daily for his gift
Each day you give me such enjoyment 
Your love has given my heart a lift.

Today I know as clear as can be,
I didn’t pick you; rather you picked me.


Written by Brenda Meier-Hans 
11.26.2014
Sponsor Shadow Hamilton 
Contest: Pets
2nd


Copyright © Brenda Meier-Hans | Year Posted 2014

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Cats! Cats! Cats!

...                                                     Oh!                  Oh!
                                                       What?              What?
                                                       Do you think of cats?
                                                     We have too many cats.
                                                   At least, they feast on rats.
                                                 Cats. (*) Cats! Cats! (*) Cats.
                                                 What do you think of that?  I
                                                 have seen them with a mole.
                                                 Dead, pulled out of his hole. 
                                                  A delicacy I once was told.
                                                       My cats are: Meow.
                                                 Some big fat- Meow!
                                       Rat-eating cats.  Meow!
                               I never see them eat a bat.
                        I guess at night, they sleep or chat.
                  Cats do not have wings.  They cannot fly!  
               My, oh my, will they wish someday to fly?
            At early dawn it is time to prowl.  Not for owls.
        Meow!   They hunt for snakes, insects, some fowl.
      Silently, sneakily, stealthy, spying, they P-o-u-n-c-e-!
     It’s survival of the fittest, kitty cat style.  Buy a bell.
    You may see them on the ground or in a tree looking
      down. Meow!   Sometimes they will play in the sand.
      Rolling, flipping around on every inch of ground.
       Or you might find them upside down flexing,
         Anticipating their morning prowl.  Meow.
              By and by, success is found.  
                  In their kitty bowl...  Meow. 
                   Smiles!  Meow, Meow, Smiles! 
                        © (© Dane Smith-Johnsen) January 27, 2010


Copyright © Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen | Year Posted 2010

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A Cat With A Knack

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


Copyright © colleen laforme | Year Posted 2006

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What's In The Urn

           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 I guess
It is surmised, that’s how it met its end
Wound 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 | Year Posted 2014

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A Different Game

Friends and trouble go hand in hand.
Legends of the  neighborhood.
Like statues  and vacant buildings  still stand.

A crime in plain view no one ever saw.
Held hostage in fear.
The mouse sturggles to escape from 
cats claw.

Blood on the bricks  that stains my mind.
Time takes me away.
Yet never leaves the memory far behind.

Summers in the city nights run into days.
We turn are backs to the truth.
But in this game everyone plays.

Heros are villians  depending 
on who you are.
Stories told bout the other night.
Hidden truths  like the bat under the bar.

The players are future tombstones
Men glorified beyond there name.
the citys children caught within her  confines.
Forced to play a different  game.

 



Copyright © John Patrick Robbins AKA Gonzo | Year Posted 2009

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The Tiny Traveler

Adopted animals love their humans; 
show it in many ways.  
The tiniest pet, 
revels in the harmony of its time, 
with family.

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 | Year Posted 2015

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My Pet

I went to Peru
And found a kangaroo
I tried to take him to a zoo
But then I found him in my room!

Now he's my pet
Jumping like a jet,
Oh how I regret 
Ever taking him to my flat!


Copyright © Elena Pisani | Year Posted 2016

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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


Copyright © Rick Zablocki | Year Posted 2013

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My Puppy

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
2012


Copyright © Brenda Meier-Hans | Year Posted 2014

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Lilly's Lullaby

She was always there 
     with her big green eyes
Looking up at me 
     and into the skies.

Her dreams were of birds
     and of prowling about.
I tried keeping her in
     but she always got out.

She would hide on the roof
     to hunt unwary prey
then gift them to me
     in her honoring way.

Sometimes I screamed loudly
     at the gifts that she offered
centipedes, roaches and mice
     were some things that she proffered.

Praises were always followed 
     by special kitty treats.
While I pleaded with her
     to make no repeats.

She always stood guard
     as if to give me protection
and would curl up close to me
     to offer her affection.

Oh Lilly, sweet Lilly
     please continue to purr
and I will continue
     to stroke your soft fir.

As her song would begin 
     well, it made me cry.
I’ll miss her every day
     until the day that I die.


November 24, 2014


Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2014

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My Bed's Just Here For The Cat

Fatcat,
Hairy nuisance
Sprawling over bedsheets
Crowding limited sleepspace with
Blubber.


Copyright © William Masonis | Year Posted 2009

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The Nail Biter

He bites his nails beside me on the bed
so loudly!  This strange habit is most grating.
I’d like to throw a pillow at his head,
but he would just continue, not abating.

I’m used to just how vexing he can get,
like when he begs for food that I am eating.
When someone comes to call, he gets upset;
then settles down and gives a gleeful greeting -

Unless the visitor is someone small!
He sits and stares if I pick up a child
then panics if the infant starts to bawl.
I love my doggy though he gets so wild!

Although a naughty child himself is he,
how sweet and trusting is his love for me.


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2014

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Sonnet Chiweenie Boo

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.

11.14.14


Copyright © rob carmack | Year Posted 2014

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Lucky at Home

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.


Copyright © Tom Valles | Year Posted 2014

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POSHPAWS

Poshpaws was our beloved pussy cat She would clean her fur when sat on the mat Loved to be stroked, we could tickle her tum Her purr was loud like the noise from a drum Large emerald eyes would sparkle and gleam Her coat so soft with a beautiful sheen She would lie in the sun from dusk till dawn Rouse from her dreams with a pussycat yawn Dad did not like cats - that’s what he would say But on his lap Poshpaws would always lay She’d follow my Dad all around the house Make no noise, be as quiet as a mouse She slipped away from us aged only ten Buried in a beautiful shady glen Written 11~23~14 Contest: I love my Pets Sponsor LuLoo


Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2014

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Bright Birds

Deceptive, drowsy,
the gray cat, Tempus, in doldrums
lazes, purring, stretching.
I have watched him:
cunning eyes half-closed,
he stalks bright birds in the garden,
near day lilies.
Wings wet from flights
through the sprinkler's sweeps,
the birds swoop, glide, flutter.
They light on dry grass,
strut and shake themselves,
are lulled. Then,
Tempus pounces on one bird.
The rest are routed…
And Tempus fugit.


Copyright © Leo Larry Amadore | Year Posted 2011

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- God Has Taken EVERYTHING -

                          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
10.05.2012
A-L Andresen :9
Copyright © All Rights Reserved


Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2012

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This is Mine, All Mine

This is Mine, All Mine                                     by Chuck Keys

Fall day, perfect, 
Sunny brisk alive.
Filtered rays of sunlight. 
Shimmering through semi barren trees
Almost skeletal 
Scattered blown leaves
Patiently waiting their first winter freeze, 
So - very serene, calm, barely a sound,
A bird or two chirping
Sounding lost,
Looking about ready.

There, a small sparse bush
Proudly showing a tiny new green innocent bud, 
Nonchalantly waiting about. 
His chance to grow, 
Fading with shortened cooler days coming
  
On the trail, my dog, 
At my front, back and
                                      … side, 
Protectively jumping, sniffing, flying, yelping
Majestically prancing about and over,
Manly pawing his ground, 
Feeling heat from 
The October daytime warmed earth
Dried decaying broken leaves of time fading,

     In motion, 
     Wind behind his gate,
     Cantering soundlessly but hard, manly 
     Racing airborne paws; 
     Panting with passion, drooling in chase,
     Soaring gleefully effortlessly in-flight,
                                                                       ... off the ground 
                                                                       ... leaping high, higher, highest 
     Endlessly into the wilderness, 
     On his ground.  His movements
                                                           … echoing, uncontrolled.

     The tamed beast; driven as ever,  
     Head locked rigid aimed forward, high, tongue draped aside out
     Eyes opened squinting into the wind, starring affront
     Nose twitching alive on fire in hunt, 
     Tail erect, straight as an arrow on 
     Legs in sync with one another, together
     Body pulsing as one, muscles taught,
     On guard, with pride and ownership.
     He stops, panting eyes piercing, 
                                                          … side to side, front to back
    "This is mine, all mine" ... he says
                                                           ... he says to his daddy. 


Copyright © Chuck Keys | Year Posted 2010

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Tige

(Circa 1910) Grandpa had a bulldog whose name was Tige. They were close – as close as honey and bees. If Grandpa felt a cold comin’ on – Well Ol’ Tige was the one who would sneeze Grandpa was noted for his wealth and generosity. His love for me was demonstrated when he paid my college fees. The love he held for Tige was almost the same for me. And ol’ Tige was always with Grandpa wherever he might be. College life was different then, separation was the norm. And years at Alma Mater meant years far from the farm. Students have it difficult and allowances soon shrink So, short of money there, I soon began to think. Grandpa, bless his giving heart, quickly came to mind That bulldog owned his generous heart – if somehow I could find Some way to convince my grandpa to increase the money sent -- I came upon a devious plan – and this is how it went. I wrote and told my grandpa, “There’s things you ought to know. The things they’re doin’ here at school will set your heart aglow.” “They’re takin’ all these sorts of dogs – it came as quite a shock Grandpa, you won’t believe me, they’re teachin’ dogs to talk.” Now grandpa loved ol’ Tige so much it didn’t take him long To ask how much would it take to send ol’ Tige along? Well, when I gave a figure, Grandpa was satisfied If this crazy scheme was figured out, there’s no place I could hide. I kept feeding grandpa all sorts of good reports How Tige was a star pupil and mascot of all sports Two years passed and soon there came the time to take Tige home Grandpa was so excited -- Tige was never more to roam. Grandpa came runnin’ when I stepped down off the train. His eager eyes were searching for what he’d never see again. “Where’s ol’ Tige?” he asked, as we began to walk. “He’s not comin’.” I replied, “C’mon we need to talk.” This morning I was shaving in the bathroom by the sink And Tige was justa talkin’ when he looked at me and winked. “Ya know’ he said, “I’ll be so glad to be back home at last.” There are some things I’ve thought about that went on in the past.” “I was standin’ at the mirror with my razor in my hand Ol’ Tige was talkin’ ‘bout some things he couldn’t understand. I could not believe the lies he told – things he’d seen first hand Like the times he saw you wrestlin’ with that female hired hand.” His words just lit a fire with the pictures that he painted I almost couldn’t help myself – Grandpa, I nearly fainted. It seems that I lost it some and when I finally woke, I’d grabbed him by the backa his neck and cut his lyin’ throat. I know grandpa was shaken, I saw it in his eyes. A look of consternation he could not disguise He seemed to be relieved, as he looked at me and said, “Now, Son, I really need to know, are you sure ol’ Tige is dead?” Years have hidden the truth of this deception that I wrought. I’m the one who wove deceptive tales that everybody bought. But when the truth is told at last and no more lies are found You’ll gladly find an ending that surely will astound. Grandpa? -- He now lives with Jesus, and me? -- I’m headed there. Tige? – I know he’s still around though I shouldn’t tell you where. We made a pact some years ago when things went awfully bad. For years he’s been the best darn mascot my school ever had.


Copyright © John Posey | Year Posted 2012

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A Mouse in the House

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 | Year Posted 2014

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thoughtful paws

Place your hand upon my coat,
Watch me shiver so,
Pure ecstasy with you I feel,
Through my eyes I touch your soul.

For ill be there at your waking,
My tail, wagging to and fro.
In the evening bring you comfort,
When the days, stress has took its toll.

Can there be a friend so loyal,
Who will be there when you call?
In this ever changing world,
Some things never change at all.





Copyright © nicholas windle | Year Posted 2012

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A DOGS LIFE

I've been shoved out in the back yard, A bit ruff, don't you agree? It's not that I've disgraced myself, No,It's because SHE caught a flea! Don't know what all the fuss is about, I mean they don't bother me. Any way I need the exercise, It's a great way to have a good scratch. Those crafty little blighters They get right under my thatch. I like to chase 'em out To see how many I can catch. I grabs 'em and bites 'em And has my bit of fun. When they see these gnashers,grrr, You should see them try to hop and run. Oh! there's one,oh! there's one, Oh! there's another one. He-llo!what's going on here then? Aaarghh! that stuffs awful,smells really bad. Oy, watch where you're spraying! If you don't mind,I still want'a be a dad! Sometimes these humans just don't care. They drive me barking mad. Howoooo, I'm fed up with all this palaver I can't stand all this strife--. Hang on-time to be 'mummies darling'. Here comes his soppy wife. The things you have to do to make them happy. It really is a dog's life!
Palaver-fuss or bother


Copyright © SYLVIA Coulstock | Year Posted 2010

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Lost Words

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



Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2005

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The Stray

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 | Year Posted 2015

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Animal Antics

I just found out two poodles that I bought
were ferrets!  Ay caramba! And guess what?

To make each one resemble less a rat,
they gave them steroids, making them both fat!

They also fluffed their pretty fur just so
around their heads. So how was I to know?

Each one looked so much like a toy poodle
they had me fooled - whole kit and caboodle!

Our veterinarian has verified
the facts for me. Those poodle dealers lied.

And folks now say I should have realized
the truth, which stared at me with beady eyes!

Those ferrets sure run fast; I think I’ll buy
two tiny leashes, or else I could try. . . 

to sucker someone stupider than me.
Hey, buy one poodle; get the other free!


I wrote this April 22, 2013 after hearing a news story about a guy who actually believed he had bought a poodle when it was a ferret on steroids! See above for the link to the news footage! 


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2013