Saturday, October 25, 2014

Canine Companionship

I've been reading some poetry by Ogden Nash and really like the way he sometimes didn't write in a strict meter. So, I thought I'd give it a try:

Canine Companionship

They say a man's best friend is a little bitty doggy
that barks at him, whines, licks the newspaper until it's downright soggy,
where you can't read the obits, the comics or even the sports
which would put me dearly, not merely, but quite clearly out of sorts.

A dog requires a leash, a collar, a bone, a house of its own, and a ball,
and to be walked halfway around the planet, but the gall of it all
is that he demands to be rubbed every night on his tummy;
which to me, if he's supposed to be my best friend,
                         sounds a little bit too chummy.

I had a best friend once, and he never slobbered on me (that I knew),
and if I had tried to put a collar on him, and walk him, he'd beat me
                       until I was entirely black and blue.
He never begged for special treats or chased cars that were just passing by,
and he never barked at little old ladies, or young ones. He was kind of shy.

No, a dog is not my best friend, and never will one be.
I'd rather have a goat or two, maybe a llama, a ferret, a hamster,
                 or some fish from down under the sea.
A raccoon would be fun to have, or maybe a vampire bat.
But I'll never befriend a dog, or for that matter ... a stinkin' cat.

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