Puppy Bowl

Here's some cute 'hoola pups pics in honor of tonights big game. (Catahoula Leopard Dogs). Yeah, I know it's Super bowl Sunday and you might wonder what that has to do with dogs. Well, read on.

While I love the commercials, the Pittsburgh Steelers aren't in the game, so why should I care about guys and pigskins? Patriots and Giants. Phooey, wrong teams and wrong towns. So, tonight, for a howling good time, I will tune in not to the big football game, but the much more entertaining Puppy Bowl on Animal Planet. For you catty folks, the half time show is the Kitty Bowl. Seriously, I am not making this up. Check the link. Watching at least a few minutes of the doggie game is a hoot.

So, for tonight, a doggie themed poem.

OUR NEW PUPPY

By Nancy Wayman Deutsch


Busy buddy,
rapscallion
in constant motion.
Searching, finding
hidden treasure:
a discarded bit of tissue,
carried proudly off,
scavenged from my office trashcan.
Or one of my socks,
escaped from my walking shoe.

You ate my white summer sandal,
while I drifted somewhere in sleep.
Only one before I awoke
although I needed a shoe for each foot.
Or so I believed, before we met.

My Waterford vase must find a new home.
It’s silken flowers, bent over
several missing, now.
Why must you walk across the sofa table,
when the floor is nearer your paws?

You pounced on a lizard,
there in the grass
who left his tail behind
when he shimmied up the screen.
You didn’t notice his escape,
nose already calling you away
to some new smell-vision adventure.

Unrolling the toilet paper,
you ran from the bath,
because I caught you that time.
On the kitchen counter,
the meatballs sang a drool song
but, I heard them, too.

Why do you remember to bark at six o’clock,
for a puppy’s breakfast,
though you can’t remember to go outside,
when you need to pee.
I walk you for an hour.
Somehow, you wait,
keeping everything you’ve got inside
until we get home.

Your favorite toy
a fuzzy yellow duck,
which still quacks,
despite his missing foot.
Second to that lopsided duck
anything that Belle already has
between her paws.

When we rescued you,
I thought you had lost your joy.
Though I know dogs,
this time, I was wrong.
Joy was there, hiding
behind your mismatched eyes,
waiting to be set free.