DOGGEREL

                    The weather’s cool and Gyp would rather be
                    Outside in the back yard than here with me
                    And Tig, or so she thinks, but soon her bark
                    Proclaims she’s grown weary of her lark
                    And wants back in.  Perhaps the chirring squirrels
                    And chittering birds who all upbraid our girls
                    Have gotten on her nerves and changed her mind
                    And now for warmth and quiet she’s inclined.
                    “All right, old girl, then come on back inside,
                    Or stay there on the porch—as you decide.”
                    She came right in and took my handed treat,
                    A Greenie nub, which she plopped down to eat,
                         Which meant that Tiggy too got her reward
                         For doing nothing—just for being adored.

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