Journeys

No one tells me anything,

No one gives a hoot.

They haul me out of cosy bed

And plop me in the boot.

“Come on, Daisy, off we go,”

They whistle down the stairs.

I’m never told the journey time.

I’m just so unawares

Of where we’re heading, and how long

It takes us to get there -

I’d like to know if I have time

To brush my tangled hair.

They never give me books to read

(And I can’t reach the shelf),

I tried to download MP3’s but

It’s too tough to do myself

(The buttons are so fiddly on

Those dratted small machines),

You’d think they’d shove a toy back here

Or just some magazines.

I get a bowl of water

But I’d really like some tea -

And not that heinous PG Tips!

I’m a Lapsang Souchong girl, you see.

Please leave the bag in longer

Than you would do for yourself;

I have a robust palate, ya,

Plus, tea’s good for my health.

I drink it daily before five,

That’s when I switch to port

Which I have with my cheese and bread,

I do adore Roquefort.

Now, you can tell I’m quite complex,

I’m just no two-bit mutt.

I therefore don’t appreciate you

Treating me as such.

So please, next time you have to drag me

Off inside the car,

Furnish me with info:

Where we’re going, why, and how far.

It’s not too much to ask, I feel,

That I am told some facts.

It’s quite important, don’t you see,

So that I know which friends to text

To let them know I’m on my way

Or that I’ll be back soon.

I may already have lunch plans -

A no-show would just be too rude!

And, next time when you yank me out of bed

Into the car...

But wait, what’s this? Oh, joy of joys!

Oh, Man! We’re at the park!

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.

Twins

Tied and bound outside Waitrose,

Why I’m here, nobody knows.

But right behind me, tied beside

My lead, I look into some eyes

I recognise, some eyes I know!

And, lo, I think I know that nose

As well, it’s black and damp like mine,

My Lord, a touch of luck sublime!

Who is this creature just like me?

What is, why is, how is she?

Her name is Poppy (says the tag)

I lift my tail and start to wag.

With all this joy, I’m fit to burst,

I’d better just say hello first.

I cough and clear my throat to say:

“My name is Daisy. To you, good day.”

Poppy nods in my direction

But doesn’t proffer introduction.

Instead she turns away from me

And gazes, blankly, at a tree.

I pull my lead ‘til it is taut

And march around the big food court

So I am level with her head

And then repeat what I’d just said:

“My name is Daisy, did I stutter?

This is where you offer up a

Name yourself, you sulky pup.

What’s wrong? Will you please just cheer up?

You give us Westies awful press

By being moody and depressed.

It’s not so tough to smile and woof

And give a courteous little sniff.

Try it once, I bet you’ll see

That being affable like me

Will get you far in this tough life

So full of misery and strife.”

On the mention of that word

My twin spun 'round about so hard

And glared my way with dagger eyes

But what came out was a surprise:

“Disculpame, no hablo Ingles,

No puedo entender lo que dices.

Quizas dilo a mi madre cuando

Regressa del supermercado?”

Oh dear, gasped I, a Spanish pooch,

I was so blind in my approach!

I was too quick to criticise

A foreigner who’s probably nice!

I crouched down on four bended knees

And stuttered forth apologies,

I begged forgiveness and all that

Man, I felt a proper twat.

Poppy stood and stared at me,

Wholly uncomprehendingly.

On occasion she just shrugged,

Looked bored - as if she had been drugged.

Eventually Mum came out

Unhooked then swivelled me about.

She turned us back towards the car

(Which, happily, was not parked far).

I strained my neck to say bye-bye

And out the corner of my eye

I heard a very British grunt -

I’d swear la Poppy whispered…something awfully rude.

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.