The Family Who Cried Walkies

“Walkies, Daisy! Walkies!” they cry,

But do not believe them, it's surely a lie.

It’ll be hours before we reach the park,

And if we do get there, it’ll be dark.

I don’t think they mean to be ever so daft;

It’s the way that they’re programmed, the way that they are.

And nothing I do now will change things a jot.

This is my fate, this is my lot.

The problem we have is just one of the mind

(Not one which signals they’re being unkind):

They call out my name then remember they’ve left

A cake in the oven, a shirt in the press,

The hoover on auto, the phone off the hook,

They’ve spilled all their Coco Pops over a book.

They haven’t got shoes on or can’t find their hat,

They trip over carpets and step on the cat.

They need a quick coffee - they’re still half asleep -

They fumble around for my packet of treats.

And don't get me started on finding the keys!

(Or losing the car and calling the police.)

We finally leave but we're back in just two

When someone realises they need the loo;

They’ll take an umbrella in case it should rain -

Sometimes I think this is all just a game

Which I don’t find funny - am I missing a trick?

Really, this game is a pain in the neck.

I lie here and wait, so patient at first,

Gradually my bladder threatens to burst.

And just when I think that we’re ready to split

Along comes the doorbell. This is the pits.

The visitor usually stays for a while

And everyone (bar me) is giggles and smiles.

If they only could see my face under the fur

And see that my lip is beginning to curl.

I won’t let it bug me or mess with my head.

Though later, I swear, I will crap in their beds.