I’ll be singing for his supper…

our prince of dogs

When Mr F didn’t take doggie to work today
our prince of dogs looked so mournful,
poor chap,
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.
Good grief.
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,
oh-whatagoodboy-you.are-you.are-oh-whatagood boy-you.are…
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

About dearrosie

We think we need so much, when all we really need is time to breathe. Come walk with me, put one foot in front of the other, and get to know yourself. Please click the link to my blog - below - and leave me a comment. I love visitors.
This entry was posted in Poetry, The Natural World, Tutto va bene and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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