My three girls
by Michael Hornschuch
With great fondness I write of my three girls,
They're always smiling throughout the day
Chasing cats, and the occasional squirrels
Searching the park, oh, how they play
But mornings are rough, as I walk out the door,
Their eyes all saddened as they wonder once more
Will he return at days end, or is this our last time
Since he’s gone, to the couch where we’ll climb
Guarding the house in my absence -- they watch
For burglars and thieves and postmen at four
This job they take seriously and never will botch
Militantly watching for a stranger at the door
But each night I return, same as the day before,
Ecstatic with joy, overwhelmed by my presence
As if they were saying “don’t leave us no more!!”
Each dog vying for attention at my sudden entrance
What an example of God’s loving grace
Suddenly playful, crazy and wild
Each taking their turn at licking my face
I spoil them rotten as each is my child
He was a great and loyal collie,
he was just a 6 week old puppy
when we got him from my brother
Dave, his dog just had 6 puppies,
which Dusty was one of them.
So on a beautiful October day
in 1964 we brought him home.
Such a sweet and beautiful Collie
he was, it was love at first sight.
He learned many tricks, I could
see that he was a very smart dog
from the start, I never seen a dog
learn so fast.
I later found out just how smart
he was.
One day we were outside
sitting on the porch, our two
kids were playing when they
attempted to leave the yard,
Dusty ran up to them and
herded them back into
the yard, I could not believe what
I had just seen, what a dog, I thought.
Then one day while the kids were
taking a nap, I looked outside
to see how Dusty was doing
and he was gone.
I looked everywhere for him,
no luck, he was gone.
To this day I wonder what
happened to him, someone
took him and I just hope he found
a good home.
written 4-17-11
Everyday I would see her on my way to work.
Her owner was a brutal and cold hearted jerk.
She was his gas station guard dog but I guess not vicious enough
so he would beat and kick her relentlessly, I guess to make her more tuff.
I witnessed this day after day till I just couldn't take it anymore.
I had to do something, that much was sure
and so one evening I went there in the dead of night
and with a pair of bolt cutters, I cut open his fence and rescued her from her plight.
My Tasha Girl has been with me ever since then.
I couldn't ask for a more grateful and devoted friend.
Crafted from a paper bag
The bottom two corners torn out
Scrappy spent most of the day
Running and rolling about
No toys just his own tail
That bag rustled and slid around
Paws he'd stick out the holes
swiping at whatever he found
On grocery day he would wait
None to patiently for a sack
Just throw that bag on the ground
And watch him joyfully attack
No matter what toys we bought
That jingled or smelled of cat nip
Nothing to him was a much fun
As that plain old brown grocery sack
“Mew!”
There once was a cat from Peru.
That sat all day long whining, “Mew”
One day her master
With words did blast her.
So she ran away, “Mew.” Adieu.
© Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
January 30, 2010
Poetic form: Limerick
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