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.

Newspaper Dog

This morning, trotting to the park,

We detoured past the kiosk.

From way up high there came a bark

I knew canine was near us!

I couldn’t see (I’m one foot tall)

But I could smell some fur,

So shuffled back - tried not to fall -

And guess, just guess at what I saw?

A giant dog of shaggy grey

Sat just in front of Heat.

He was so tall (I have to say,

He might’ve had a seat).

I struck up chat and asked him what

He liked to read himself,

He pointed at The Guardian

Then plucked one off the shelf

And rifled through and mentioned that

He was a vocal lefty.

He asked me if I’d take one but

I said it was too hefty.

I asked why if he felt so left

He sat on Pete’s right hand,

He barked something about

Having more room on that side

But to be honest, by then, my

Neck was strained

From craning up at him

So I just left him to it.

Cat

I see you.

You are in the box,

The one on the table.

The small brown one

Which originally held

Nothing in particular

Now holds you.

It looks a tight squeeze

But then you have curled

Yourself into smaller spots:

Coiled yourself onto the warm

Tip of the ironing board,

Folded up inside the tumble drier,

Buried your head in scarves and

Tucked four paws and a tight little

Body behind one banana in

The fruit bowl.

Sometimes I wish I, too,

Like you,

Were a Cat, with

Jellybean toes and

Wise, marble eyes.

I would not be pulled

On a string but pull

Myself through flaps

And onto laps,

And when I purred

They would tickle my

Chin and smile.

But then I notice that

Your bowl is smaller than

Mine. I grin down on your

high box, stretch paws out

On my rug,

And nap.

Man’s Best Friend

I have those days when I feel small

And no one knows I’m here at all;

When people step on top of me

As if my face they cannot see

(Almost as if I am not here,

I do not live, I am but air).

I may be small, I may be white,

But does that mean I don’t feel slights

Against my fluffy, furry self?

Please, please don’t leave me by myself!

I know I’m little - oh, so wee -

And that there is not much of me,

I know that I can’t jump so high

Or reach the table, touch the sky,

Yet if you look into my eyes

I think you’ll find a soul inside.

A soul that is so much like yours

(Even though I walk on fours),

One that sings when it is glad

And one which frowns when it gets sad.

So when you pat me on the head -

Or fluff the pillows in my bed -

I feel so giddy I could fly

And reach the table, touch the sky!

So, really - I think you will find -

There’s little between you and I.

The only difference I can spot

Is one which (for you) ain’t so hot.

It makes my tail just wag and wag:

You carry my poo in a bag.