Saturday, September 21, 2013


    A jaunty little bustle-butt is Tig,
    who skips and skibbles as she zigs along
    until she hops a curb and starts to dig
    ferociously (a veritable King-Kong)
    to excavate a gopher-tortoise hole,
    or chase a squirrel up a laurel oak
    now skittering at her from its lofty bole—
    no way to quell, but all the more provoke.
    But then at home, she’s quite the cuddlekins,
    a lapdog you could pet and preen all day
    until once more the urge to roam begins,
    then she and Gyp go out again to play.
    Each on her leash, they lead me down the street
    eager to find some neighbor dogs to greet.