GYP AND TIG IN SWEATER WEATHER
The temperature has plunged to 42
When yesterday the high was 70,
Which is just fine with our dog Gypsy, whose
Ruddy coat’s as plush as coats can be.
But Tegan, though, a six-pound scoop of pup,
Tells me, “It’s surely sweater-weather now,
And if we have to walk, then it’s hup! hup!
And when we’re home, be sure to warm my chow.
“And then, when you sit down to write, be sure
To snug me in your lounge chair next to you
To warm me up—it is the only cure
And recompense for what you made me do.”
“She’s such a little bitch,” said Gyp aside,
Whose patience Tiggy’s antics often tried.