Dog On Dog

There is something on my back,

I can feel it lying there,

Is it going to attack?

My, it has a lot of hair.

It doesn’t feel so strong,

No, it’s really rather light,

But it seems to be quite long,

Oh Lord, will it be there all night?

It must have climbed aboard

When I think I drifted off

And I feel a little floored -

Though it’s sort of kind of soft.

Maybe it’s a gremlin

(‘Cos I know it’s not the cat)

It could be a small person,

Or perhaps a silly hat?

He doesn’t seem to talk

For he hasn’t said a thing

And he never ever barks

Or chirps, or growls, or rings.

He doesn’t move an inch,

Even if I stir,

And he doesn’t make me itch

(He has very nice soft fur).

In fact, I don’t know why I’m whiny

For this thing that’s lying on me,

He does make me feel quite cosy;

I’m as toasty as can be.

A Frog, A Dog And A Tiger

I hear you before I see you.

A small croak, one crooked offbeat to the

Padded patter of my feet.

I wonder what you are doing down there,

Sitting in the road, waiting for a bus.

The city is a funny place for a frog.

Particularly one called Tiger.

You don’t say much, your throat is busy

Thump, thump, thumping

And your bug eyes don’t tell me anything

That your tight fists don’t.

I wonder what you might taste like,

You look a little dry.

I want to poke you but I have never seen

One of you before. Do you bite?

A pie box is fetched from the cafe across

The road and you are scooped up and

Dropped into it.

Lunch, I guess.

But when we reach the garden

I am shut inside and you are the one

Released out onto the grass.

I’ll find you later, I think.

You just need a good dressing.

To Market We Go

A pound of ripe tomatoes, please,

And half a tub of lemons,

Six slightly green bananas, sir,

And two of those plump melons.

One avocado - make it two -

And then some tangerines

(I feel some sniffles coming on,

I need some Vitty C).

Why don’t we get a pineapple?

They are such fun to eat!

I love Jerusalem artichokes,

Ooh, they’ll be such a treat.

Do be so kind and throw me over

Sixteen bulbs of garlic -

I’m doing Sunday roast, you see,

So do chuck in some parsnips.

Let’s cook some tatties, ten will do,

And steam some long french beans.

For pudding I’ll do fruit compote

With cinnamon and cream.

What do you mean by laughing at me?

What’s so funny now?

You’ve never seen a shopping dog?

Jeez, man, don’t have a cow.

Just because I’m more sophisticated

Than the rest

It doesn’t call for mockery,

It’s impolite to jest.

Now, how much do I owe you, fella,

How much might that be?

Fifteen pounds, you say, do you?

Fifteen pounds. I see.

Now here’s the rub, sir,

Here’s the snag,

I don’t mean to be funny,

But after all, I’m just a mutt,

I don’t have any money.

Now, hold that temper, don’t get cross,

Please don’t shout at me,

Let’s put this all behind us now,

How ‘bout a cup of tea?

And anyway, you really have been

Paid an awful lot

In kind if not in actual cash:

Hey, you just met a talking dog.

Beachy Lover, Spotted

I spotted you, you spotted thing,

Gazing out to sea.

Standing gracefully ‘neath the sun,

Just in front of me.

Your tail so pert, your coat so white,

Your ears so floppy black,

Your long, fine legs were carrying

The smooth slope of your back.

I stopped fast when I spotted you

And turned back on myself;

I knew you would be trouble but

Sometimes one just can’t help oneself.

I coughed a little - coyly, like -

And kicked about some sand,

Hoping that you’d turn around and

Take me by the hand

And whisk me off to paradise

On T’other end of beach.

But turn to face me you did not,

Our love, it felt so out of reach.

I thought of all the wondrous things

We could have done together:

Chasing cats and eating bones

In just all kinds of weather.

Taking long walks on the shore -

Peaceful, me and you -

We could have played chess or backgammon,

Even rented a canoe.

I saw a gang of little puppies:

Furry, spotty, white.

I saw our future, knew it well

And vowed you would be mine tonight.

I puffed my snowy, downy coat

And slicked back wayward hair,

Prepared to venture up to you

And make you see me, make you care.

The walk to you was infinite,

A never-ending stroll,

(I even tripped on a big shell

And used a child to break my fall)

But the second that I reached your side

I knew that I’d come home,

I didn’t even need the words

I’d carefully jotted down.

I lay my head upon your side and rested,

Closed my eyes,

But what you did next startled me,

Your actions took me by surprise:

You growled at me, you bared your teeth,

Ready to attack,

My eyes popped open and I jumped

And then I stumbled quite far back.

Turns out you were not quite the man

You had seemed from back there.

My heart did rip asunder

As you barked at me, disturbed the air.

I scuttled off (I have to say,

I was a little scared),

Part of me - no, all of me -

Had really thought you’d truly care.

Alas, alack, ‘twas not to be,

Our peachy, beachy love.

But, hark! Check out that spaniel, there!

Right, Spotty, scram! Just beat it! Shove!

A Funny Think Happened On The Way To The Park

A funny thing happened on the way to the park,

I’ll tell you, just listen to this:

As we walked past the pond and the nest full of larks

Was a sight that one just could not miss.

Pigs, there were, four of them, all pink and brown,

Would you believe it? I didn’t at first.

Just nibbling grass and mooching around

By the trees, and rolling in dirt.

Now, I know what you're thinking, I know you attest:

"With this sight, whatever is wrong?"

And right you would be if we lived near some fields but

In London town, pigs! They just do not belong.

I would not have believed that these creatures were swine

If not for the informative sign:

“Do not feed the pigs” said the sign of the swine

And so swine they most certainly were, I resigned.

“Breathtaking beasts,” I said to the baby

Sitting nearby in a pram.

Baby had no response - enraptured, I guess -

So I turned my head back to the pigs and their mam.

“Yoo-hoo!” I proffered to this curly-tailed gang,

“Oi, look over here, look at me!”

But the gang didn’t care for my friendly advances

They only cared for their grub, do you see.

Pigs after my own heart, I thought to myself,

Wise beasts are these pink things, I think.

Now let's get the hell out of here, sharpish, let’s run.

They may be smart but, good Christ, do they stink.

Best Of Friends

I didn’t much like you when you arrived,

I made no pretence of that.

I preferred my house the way that it was,

I really didn’t care for a cat.

I barked at you daily, I growled (to your face!),

I never went near where you were.

I left rooms that I sat in when you strode by

I didn’t like your fur. Or your purr.

But you didn’t care for my whines and my barks,

You laughed at my snooty asides.

You pretended I didn’t exist for a while,

You laughed when I thought you should cry.

I liked that you didn’t seem scared of my woof,

So thought that I’d give you a go

And see if you had what it took to live here

To see if this braveness was real or for show.

I touched your small head with a nudge of my paw

And waited for you to attack.

But all you did was nuzzle my face with your ear

And turn so my nose scratched your back.

An odd response, yes, from a cat to a dog,

But we’ve never been like the rest:

You don’t have a name, for a start,

Y’know? And I like your cat food the best.

I could see right then that we would be pals

And hang out all of the time.

The others may bark and meow to our face

But together I know that we will be just fine.

On Being Cute

I find it queer when people want to pat and pinch and prod

My back, and stroke my belly and my face; it’s really very odd.

I know I look so damnéd cute and just so very twee,

But really, I have clever thoughts, I’m learning Japanese.

I’m also reading War And Peace (well, re-reading, I suppose)

And learning algorithmic maths. Oh, and making all my clothes.

They’re not for me, before you jest, I sell them on eBay.

They fetch a pretty penny too, I'll be filthy rich one day.

The ties I make are popular - all my own design -

And sweaters do fly off the shelves; I’m knitting all the frickin' time.

And when I’m not with needle-thread you’ll find me with a drill.

I’m making kitchen cab'nets, see? One with a low, low grill

So I can cook all my own food - I do so love homemade -

I’ve made a shepherd’s pie before, and vegetables sauteed.

But sitting at the human counter really is a chore,

I’ve had to do all of my slicing-dicing on the floor!

I need to have a proper surface, not too much to ask,

But to avoid a hefty bill, I’m doing all the work myself.

It will not take me very long - I have a maths degree -

I should think one more week or so, then please, you must come round for tea.