Although I’ve known several dogs before,
I never thought I’d have such a rapport
As I do now with Tiggy, little dear,
Who, as I write, is snuggling right here
Beside my hip in our shared easy chair,
As safe and comfortable as any lair,
Serving me often as my morning muse
Providing me with notions I can use.
This little daemon, though, at other times
Turns demon—ask our squirrels—intending crimes
And making mayhem in our dawning yard,
Quite disconcerting to a would-be-bard.
But now she’s settled down, her breathing slow,
Because of which, I have this verse to show.