Tuesday, December 15, 2015


                        Most dogs that Gyp and Tig and I may meet
                        On our twice-daily walks out on the street
                        Are amiable and curious, no threat,
                        And happy enough to get a friendly pet
                        From me as we dog-lovers have a chat,
                        While all the dogs gaze round to spy a cat,
                        Which, if they do, means I must get a grip
                        On both my leashes, especially on Gyp
                        Who’s always eager for a frantic chase,
                        As if against a cat she’d win that race
                        Before it scampered half-way up a tree
                        Less terrified than filled with feline glee:
                        Score yet another point in that long game
                        Wherein it’s always cats who win acclaim.