Editor’s Note: If you think your partner is high-maintenance, just adopt an opinionated dog. Note: all dogs are opinionated.
Daddy just scratched my chin.
This behavior is unacceptable.
He may rub me on my belly,
He may give treats but no vegetable.
Mom tried to cuddle next to me.
She needs to stay in her chair.
I don’t like being crowded.
If I need her, I’ll go over there.
What is wrong with these people?
Editor’s note: This is about as long as I have gone through National Poetry Writing Month before writer’s block set in. Maybe tomorrow.
Mumble, mumble, mumble.
I got nothing.
I’m drawing a blank.
If I were a pirate,
I’d be walking the plank.
I don’t want to appear bitchy,
I fear I seem to be quite rude.
It’s just that I’m here starving,
And Mom won’t share her food.
Mom is a diabetic,
She’s very careful what she eats,
So, I just help her control portions,
By consuming any vegetables or meats.
(Especially meats.)
She screams that she’s not sharing.
“This food is just for me!”
Hey, calm your britches, lady.
Try some vodka in your tea.
Mom gave me some dog biscuits,
It’s the only snack I’ve had.
I hate to sound ungrateful,
But I can get those things from Dad.
(Cough up the meat, lady.)
I’ll need a wee distraction,
Perhaps a knock upon the door.
Then, I slightly bump the table,
And the pepperoni’s on the floor.
I’ve never seen her face that color.
It’s not like I ate it all.
I just saved you some carbohydrates,
And the rest is down the hall.
(If you can find it.)
I finally filled my belly,
I think I’ll take a nap.
But first, I’m going outside,
So I can take a … walk.
(Mmmm.. Pepperoni.)
Editor’s Note: Last year, I “retired”, so my taxes this year were insane. I don’t see a lot of benefits from my payments.
I paid my taxes online.
That way, I don’t have
To drive on broken roads,
To a unsafe neighborhood,
To the understaffed Post Office,
To find out it’s closed.
What do my taxes finance?
Today you file, if you owe.
Refunds filed long ago.
Tax forms can be quite a bitch,
The IRS thinks that we’re all rich.
We pay for months and months before,
And then today, some pay some more.
For some, it seems a source of mirth,
I just don’t think I got my money’s worth.
I cannot get a snack to eat.
If I move, I’ll lose my seat.
I have a bit of deadly gloom,
Why does a dog need so much room?
What is it with this magic chair?
He knows that I always sit there.
I’m sure that dogs must mean no harm,
Perhaps they find a used seat warm.
At last, I must admit defeat.
I will never have a snack to eat.
Grownups put away childish things.
Don’t fall into this trap.
Some childish things are awesome,
So I think I’ll take a nap.
You may be singing,
And you just don’t belong,
But puttin’ on a Stetson
Don’t make it a country song.
Editor’s Note: I was at least twelve at this point, since my Grandpa was already gone, but I’m not sure when this was. I hope it wasn’t much later than that!
Once or twice almost every year,
We would visit my Grandma’s ranch.
I would always shed a joyous tear,
Visiting another family branch.
My parents left me with my Granny,
And went off to places still unknown.
She was not really much of a nanny,
So I felt almost home alone.
As I started to drift asleep,
I was quiet as a mouse.
I didn’t hear a peep.
I was the man of the house.
I woke a little bit later,
I could hear a rustling sound.
I didn’t want to wake her,
But there was someone on the ground.
My uncle had at least two tractors,
Parked under the shed.
These I assumed were factors,
For robbing our homestead.
At this point, I saw two choices.
One, Granny pulled out a gun.
The other, hearing stranger’s voices,
She told me to go get one.
I really hoped she had a pistol,
Hidden deep in her nightgown.
Otherwise, clear as crystal,
I was going to shoot a bandit down.
I waited for her to hand me a key,
Hidden behind her necklace cross.
“This is to the gun cabinet, Sweetie.”
I would then become the boss.
There was another option, of course.
I woke Granny, who was trying not to cuss.
While I began to panic, she said,
“Nobody’s gonna bother us.”
“Now, you go back to bed!”
Well, that was anti-climactic.
When I looked out at morning light,
I found we had not been alone.
Sometime in the dark of night,
The cows had come back home.
Editor’s Note: This is from a non-scientific study, but results are interesting.
Dogs sleep 19 hours a day (or so.)
They’re really not very active at all.
They will show up for all mealtimes,
Or sometimes, just to catch a ball.
So, eighty percent per day asleep,
A vast amount of total time spent,
Yet, when I take a one-hour nap,
That hour will be in the twenty percent.