Feathers aflutter, how she escapes again
is still a wonder as I gave my best leap
How much slier could I be?
God made me with paw and flea.
Who cares? The suspect now flees.
The grass is splendid, fresh cut
Perfect for my little evening strut
Hope that picket fence not too white
for the others down the street,
wish I’m not blanked out of sight.
Comes a time every now and again,
you pray you don’t meet a Great Dane.
Still quite gallant, you make your say
“Think you’re so tough eh, bark mouth?”
And trust you don’t become another cliche.
What joy is greater than
sprawling yourself on his couch?
Perhaps the velvet welcome mat, as it
makes me look like a thorough brat
When I calmly pee on that.
Trespass, please. 