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.

The Mystery Dog

It follows me, this big dark dog,

Everywhere I go.

He doesn’t smell of anything

Which does annoy me so.

I don’t think he’s a terrier,

(He doesn’t look like me),

His back is round, he has no ears

I wish that I could see

Him better, that he’d just stand up.

He’s always lying on the ground,

That lazy pooch,

Oh, just get up!

He’s never nearby when I wake,

Only when I’m out,

And if it rains (or it is dark),

He hides from me and I have doubts

That he is ever there at all

But then, when the sun shines,

He darts about the park with me

All of the bloody time.

I cannot catch him when I run -

Even if I’m fast -

He’s aways right there next to me

And never running too far past.

I find it rude that he won’t come and

Introduce himself.

I’m very friendly, I won’t bite,

And whenever I say hi myself

He runs about as fast away as I do run

To him,

I’m getting sick of all his games,

God help him, the day that I catch him.

City Dog, Country Dog

I met a friend by the bins today,

I met a new friend by the bin.

He was a little bit bigger than me,

But I wasn’t frightened of him.

He gave me a sniff, I gave him one back,

I looked him up and down.

I stared him out and said to him,

“I haven’t seen you around town.”

“I’m new around here,” the big dog said

As he looked down his nose at me.

That seemed a little aggressive, I thought,

And I wandered off to a tree.

“I didn’t mean to be so rude,”

The big dog at once replied.

“It’s just that I don’t have any mates,”

And with that, Big Dog sighed.

“I came from someplace so far from here

Where we had green fields and grass.

This town it smells so strange to me -

Plus, I really do hate all these cars.”

“I don’t know where you mean,” I said,

Sitting down by the bins.

“I’ve lived here all my life, you see,

‘Fields’? What are these things?”

“A city dog! Wow!” barked Big Dog at me,

“I’ve never met someone like you!

You couldn’t show me the ropes, y’know?

I don’t suppose you could, could you?”

“Yeah, I could do that,” I told my pal.

“Yeah, I could do that for you.

But you’d need to do one thing for me,

Then I’ll do this favour for you.”

“Oh, name it, Little Dog, do name it to me!

I’ll do anything you ask!

I’m scared of this place, of all of the cats

And the cars that drive oh so fast.”

“I’d like you to take me to your hometown

To see all these fields oh-so-green.

I do need a break from this hectic place,

Dude, I need a change of scene.”

"But I don’t know how to get back there,

"I was carted away from that place,

I would if I could but I can’t, you see,

If I could, then back there I would race.”

“That’s a shame,” I said, and I sauntered off.

“That’s a terrible shame, for you.”

There’s nothing else I want, you see.

Best of luck in the city. Adieu.”

It may have been harsh not to help him out,

It may have been so unkind.

But I’m a city dog, see, with taxes and bills:

I’ve got tons of bloody other stuff on my mind.

So give me a break from those eyes that judge,

Don’t lay all your morals on me.

He’ll find his own way around the town,

And if not, well, he should have worked harder, y’see?

The next thing I heard of our friend, Big Dog,

Wasn’t good (perhaps shut your ears):

He fell down a manhole that wasn’t closed up.

Drat! Now I’ll never see those damnable fields.

Bathtime

One day, when I’m bigger than you,

I’ll see how you like being plunged

Into a sinkful of tepid water, held down,

And scrubbed until you’re pink.

One day, when I’m bigger than you,

I’ll see how you like being splashed

And flannelled with bubbly soap that

Makes you itch and smells funny.

One day, when I’m bigger than you,

I’ll see how you like having your toes

So close to the plughole when I let the water

Out. See if you'll get sucked down, too.

One day, when I’m bigger than you,

I’ll hoist you out of the sink,

Plop you on the floor and laugh and laugh as you run about,

Naked and embarrassed, shaking yourself dry.

I do hope one day comes soon, it seems to be taking

Forever.

Naptime

Naptime is the best of times to

Formulate my plan;

How I’m going to get into the

Fridge and eat the ham.

I look so cute, I seem so furry

Wrapped in this pink shawl -

But just you wait, I’ll hatch my plot

And I shall fox them all...

All bundled up and oh, so warm,

My cogs are whirring fast:

I’ll find a chair, I’ll hop on up,

That ham! It shall be mine at last!

The trickiest of all the steps

Is opening the door;

I haven’t got the thumbs for it,

Oh, damn these dratted, useless paws!

And so I’ll have to grit my teeth

To yank it open wide.

It may well hurt but I won’t care when

I see all the treats inside.

A slice of cheese (I’ll have, to start)

And then a glass of milk,

Some leftover lasagne, please,

What’s up on the top shelf?

I spy some cake, I’ll munch that, too

And two fat legs of chicken,

I love this sausage and this pie,

This curry’s finger-lickin’.

And now I take my final bow

And peel back silver foil.

I see my ham - it’s glistening pink -

And well worth all the toil.

I lift one paw and rest upon the shelf

That holds my prize -

I stretch my jaw and open wide and

Pop the treasured pig inside.

I jump back down onto the chair and

Nudge the fridge door shut.

I made a mess, but do I care? Not me.

I’m just the cute white mutt...

I wake from napping with a stir and

Casually glance around.

I lift up blankie but, alas! The ham is

Nowhere to be found.

I dreamt it all, it wasn’t real,

I didn’t get the ham.

And never shall it be my prize for

Such a lazy pooch I am.

I’d rather lie here, nice and snug,

Than go on escapades.

I’ll leave those to a different dog,

Some other time, another day.

Fetch

They’re doing it again.
Throwing sticks.

Man, they think I’m

Super-thick.

Tossing here and

Chucking there,

Does it look as if

I care?

Lobbing balls

Across the park,

Watching how the

Others bark

And run so fast

They almost snap

Their little legs

And crack their backs.

Pelting through

The muddy grass,

“Look at me,” they shriek,

“I'm fast!”

They’re laughing at you,

Can’t you see?

They think you’re stupid,

Not like me.

I never fall for

Childish games,

And if you do,

Well, I think you’re lame.

Those patronising games

Of fetch;

Jesus wept,

They make me retch.