When I die and leave your side
I’m going to fly like a sparrow
up into the pussy willow tree in the backyard.
I’m going the cruise the skies
like a hawk looking for a meal below.
I’ll fly into the city and glide between the office towers,
barking at the two-leggers in their glass kennels.
I’ll ride the wind back to our neighborhood
and hover like a hummingbird
outside our bedroom window as you sleep,
and if I’m feeling mischievous, I’ll paw at the glass
and yowl, “I love you.”
The little dog was very happy now that he’d relieved himself. He was in the middle of marking his spot at the park by scratching the grass with his back legs, when he saw what his two-legger was up to and let out a peal of barks in protest. With his hand encased in a plastic grocery bag, the old man leaned over and picked up the dog’s freshly excreted poop which was no bigger than the green goose droppings surrounding it. Continue reading “Rocky”
It’s a good thing I don’t have a job or else I’d look like the Thompson cat after being chased through the brambles behind old lady Tucker’s house. You two-leggers don’t appreciate the work that goes into looking good when your entire body is covered with fur. Sure, you all have a little tuft on top of your head, but that’s nothing compared to me, a full-figured, fluffy Samoyed with my arctic white fur shining as if glistening with morning dew. And I’m beginning to wonder if that tuft of yours might be a wig, since more and more of you are going without, mostly men, and when I smell the women’s hair it smells very similar to what my two-legger uses to clean up my wee-wee. I don’t know what you use to clean a wig but you might use that. You certainly wouldn’t use wee-wee cleaner on your own hair, or maybe you all would. The odd stuff you do never ceases to amaze me. Continue reading “Snake Oil”
It was a good day to fleece treats off the customers coming out of the 7-11. The hot weather brought them in for beer and chips, and I sat outside pretending to be someone’s pet dog by sitting calmly and looking like I was waiting for my master to return from inside the store with a six-pack for him and a bone for me. Pet dogs were safe to feed. Moms didn’t have to worry about their kids trying to talk them into bringing home the stray. Don’t feed the stray, they’d say, he’ll follow us home. I’d heard that one a lot. So I put on my act of belonging to someone and it worked for me. Continue reading “Strays”
I talk to my dogs. Anyone who has dogs talks to them. Even people without them talk to dogs when they meet them on the sidewalk or in Home Depot. When I talk to my dogs, I answer back for them in my dog voice.
“Do you want to lick the bucket?” I ask Sadie, my golden retriever, after finishing a tub of yogurt and setting it on the floor.
“You really need to ask that after all these years?” Sadie answers back in my dog voice. “For a dog trainer, you’re not very observant. Maybe we should practice. Go get some more buckets, ask me if I want to lick them, then put them on the floor.” Continue reading “Fat Shmat”
That’s it, put some mayonnaise on it. No, don’t put the mayo away, don’t be cheap, put it on with a spoon. Stop worrying about your arteries. Stress will kill you long before the mayo. What? The jar’s almost empty? Well then, use it up. Oh yeah, there you go. No, don’t put it in the sink, you idiot. Put it on the floor and I’ll get it ready for the recycle bin. I know lettuce is good for you but let’s not over-do it. Okay, I need roughage. You could play eighteen rounds with that last poop. Spray ’em white and sell ’em on eBay. Ooo pickles, I like pickles. I wonder if you could pickle a cat. Mmm, that sounds good. Let’s pickle Buttons and put him on a bun. Might have to get some more mayo though. Tomato slices work, put a few more slices on. Whoops, you dropped one. Here, I’ll get it for you. Slurp. Gosh, I don’t see it. Where’d it go? That damn cat must’ve kiped it. He’s fast for a fat bastard. He might even be enough for two sandwiches. Continue reading “How to Make a Sandwich”
Gnawing the Bone 