The Real Cowboy
The Real Cowboy
A lined pad of paper and a pencil stub,
Just what Dreamer needs to write her hubub:
"How do I love thee - let me count the ways."
More to the pity WHY do I love thee on any given day.
You pulled your bed apart - you embarrassed the neighbors,
Your slurping at night! Your nighttime bone capers.
You cost a fortune just to get a bath,
Carpets must be cleaned for the unpeople-like odor to pass.
Your food must have meat on top in a certain way
Or you pout and starve until the next day.
You can understand my conversations - know when I’m through,
When I say "I need to go, that's a signal to you."
I need but touch the leash that hangs on the door,
And you jump wildly to walk even in 104.
You can read the computer screen as it fades out of sight,
"I've got her attention now, - and you jump with delight."
You're demanding for dinner - a finicky eater,
But as my furry brown Cowboy, you couldn't be sweeter.
You bark when my car drives into the port,
And love me with hugs when I get through the door.
Protection for me is your instinct and joy,
And strangers relent just hearing your voice!
Tho you've run a few peddlers out who had no harmful intent.
(It was just as well - no money got spent.)
You have me trained and that's a fact,
But without you around I'd be a cranky old slack.
Written about a pet I lost in 2009
Copyright © Sunlite Wanter | Year Posted 2017
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