The Canine Ham
There's a mighty storm raging overhead,
And my old dog she raises her head.
As I rush down the stairs in anticipation,
Of her fear and panic and trepidation.
I walk into the kitchen so calm and quiet,
Fully expecting her to raise a riot.
But she coolly turns and looks at me,
And I cannot believe what my own eyes see.
Instead of a dog trembling in fright,,
Against all past history she seems alright!
So I heave a sigh of quiet relief
And wend my way back upstairs to sleep.
But hark, I reach the top of the stairs,
And I hear a scrape, a moving of chairs.
Oh no! I think, she's scared after all
And I tumble downwards into the hall.
I tiptoe into the kitchen bright,
(where I'd felt compelled to leave a light.)
To find her sitting upon the side,
As if frantically seeking a place to hide.
That's strange, I thought, you were fine just now,
And I link my mind with hers to see how
She was not afraid before I came down.
Could she be acting the canine clown?
I spoke to her with a word(quite) stern
And told her I knew that she could discern,,
Whether danger was real or just in the mind.
She stared unblinking, though far from 'blind'
The meaning behind my eyes she knew,
So she walked back into her bed of blue.
And as I left for the second time,
She raised her eyes and winked into mine.
Giving me food for thought (yet again) ,
At how amusing and whimsical her powerful 'game'.
For as the famous author had been heard to say,
'Show you're amused, and the dog will play,
On the stage of life, to turn one's head.'
'How true' I smiled, as I turned for bed.
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