Tabletop Terrorist Poem by Martin Paul Patton

Theres a fiend in my house
That waddles about
As if he has title and deed
He sleeps in my bed
On my pillows his head
And he wakes me expecting his feed

He's a stout little doxie
Vim vigor and moxie
Not a shoe in the house that is safe
We yell GET OUT OF THAT
As he's molesting the cat
And he scurries off to his next fate

I've tried teaching him manners
Like come, stay, sit and heel
He looks up at me like I've two heads
And to give him a bath there is no appeal
It's first and foremost the thing that he dreads

There's nothing thats sacred
He's had everything
The Hummels, my coffee my beer
And when we have guests
I can see in their eyes
No adoration no envy just fear

But he's our little Dachsund
That long little cuss
Even though he can make us quite furious
But with each ounce of fury
There's ten tons of love
For Hoagie the Tabletop terrorist