I’m a Chihuahua.
Oh, woe is I.
Mom stole my chair.
Heavy sigh.
Mom will feed me
Twice a day.
It’s not enough.
I’m wasting away.
Mom will teach me
How to howl.
She says my bark
Is very foul.
I’m glad to get this
All off my chest.
I still like my Mom,
I just like Dad the best.
I’m going to have to bite you.
I hope that isn’t rude.
It’s just that I hate burglers.
Wait! Do you have food?
You broke into my house.
I hope I don’t seem coy.
So, now I have to kill you.
Wait! A squeaky toy?
The intruder has been neutralized.
She’s as dead as day-old fish.
Mom looked at me in horror.
She said, “That was your Aunt Trish.”
Oops.
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.