When Mr F didn’t take doggie to work today
our prince of dogs looked so mournful,
laying down in his bed, he turned his back to me,
and refused to eat his breakfast
even though I enticed him with tasty bits.
Temba loves going to the office,
he barks at the delivery people
flirts with the ladies, especially Lisa,
and walks Mr F every afternoon.
Around midday I tapped on his dish,
“Lunch time. Come eat good dog.”
Our princely pal did a perfect downward-dog stretch,
sniffed the food,
sat at the door, and stared at me.
Mr F makes his own dog food:
chicken, farmers market veggies, sometimes rice,
chopped up in the food processor,
healthy, tasty, easy,
much cheaper than the bought stuff
and doggie loves it.
After a long walk
when nothing but water passed his lips
I tried the *good-boy*☺ song,
together with many kisses on his beautiful nose.
He looked at me
sighed a big sigh
and bent down to eat his breakfast.
Mr F’s going away for a few days next week
I’ll be singing