Tag Archives: dogs

The Call of the Wind by Teena Raffa-Mulligan

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The Call of the Wind

 

The wind whispered softly through grass and through gum.

She heard it call clearly, invitingly, “Come!”

Felt fingers of freshness caressing her face,

ruffling her fur with such gentle embrace.

The earth had a freshness that comes after rain

and she heard the wind calling, again and again:

“Come and run with me, seek freedom, take flight!”

Its call roused a longing to know such delight.

 

It whispered so softly, in murmur so low.

It beckoned her, “Come,” and she wanted to go.

To forage in green grass new-kissed by the rain,

to taste of its sweetness and know once again

how it feels to run freely with life unrestrained,

to run with the wind, by a fence uncontained.

She pricked up her ears, her body was tense.

Her heart filled with longing, she leaped at the fence.

 

The sweet taste of freedom was brief – incomplete –

for she soon heard the sound of hurrying feet.

Familiar voice calling, she paused in her flight,

heard gentle voice saying, “I know it’s not right.

But sorry, old girl, I can’t let you run free.

If you’re on the loose the ranger might see

And take you away. Then you’d no more know

even brief tastes of freedom – a walk every day.

It’s not much to offer, but home you must stay.”

 

 

Teena Raffa-Mulligan 

The Best Dog in the Universe by Louise Molloy

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The Best Dog in the Universe

 

Found in a quarry

Of origins unknown,

Turbo is his name – he is

TURB-tastic, TURB-acious, TURB-iffic!

 

A tail-chasing tornado,

An explorer of backyards, own and other,

A maker of many friends – he is

TURB-tastic, TURB-acious, TURB-iffic!
A lover of sticks and twigs in fact

Branches of any kind, hurled or lobbed,

An Olympic canine paddler – he is

 

TURB-tastic, TURB-acious, TURB-iffic!

 

Stretched out on the terrace watching the stars

He protects, a snake-alert cat alarm,

Waiting for snacks, for pats and to play – he is

TURB-tastic, TURB-acious, TURB-iffic!

 

© Louise Molloy

Dog Walk/Talk by David Rish

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Dog Walk/Talk

 

When I took Minnie for a walk,

All she wanted to do was talk.

Yap, yap, yap,

And chat, chat, chat.

Did you hear about this?

Did you hear about that?

Did you hear about Chris?

Don’t you think Paul’s fat?

And this is this,

And that is that.

Poor old Chris,

And Paul doesn’t like Pat.

And isn’t Mrs Bellows wearing a silly hat?

And what was that rat-a-tat-tat?

Minnie, Minnie, please stop right now,

You could talk the ears of a stone deaf cow.

Come on, Minnie, its silence I crave,

Your chat-chat-chat will put me in my grave.

So I ask you on my bended knees,

“Please, please, please, please, please, please.

Walk, just walk; walk, walk, walk,

And stop that talk talk-talk-talk-talk!”

Walk you say? Swell hey-hey-hey!

Walking’s fine but it’s not my way.

I like to talk, that’s what mouths are for,

I wonder what’s the cricket score?

I wonder if the Moon’s made of cheese?

Listen to that cat snort and sneeze.

Talk, talk, talk, talk, talk, talk, talk.

Talk and talk and talk; squawk, squawk.

Sigh.

 

© David Rish

Easter Thief by Jenny Erlanger

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Easter thief

 

Tell me, Buster, tell me who

would want to rob a kid?

How could someone ever do

what this offender did?

 

Help me, Buster, use your snout,

your super sense of smell.

Sniff the thoughtless scoundrel out

and I’ll reward you well.

 

Sit up, Buster, take those paws

away from round your ears

Why the sudden droopy jaws,

the hint of doggy tears?

 

Why the worried-looking brow,

the tail between the legs…?

Naughty Buster, fess up now.

It’s you who stole my eggs!

 

©  Jenny Erlanger

Harvey’s Escape by Edel Wignell

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Harvey’s Escape

Based on the reported escape of a bouncing, squat, Staffordshire bull-terrier by trampolining over the back fence of his yard. (‘Odd Spot’, The Age, Melbourne, 16 June 2008)

 

Harvey liked to jump and bounce upon the trampoline

With frisky owners, little Bob, and teenage girl, Noreen.

He jumped and bounced, and bounced and jumped, steadily getting weary-er,

‘Come on, boy! Keep it up! Jumping’ll make you merrier!’

Exhausting Harvey, the bouncing, squat, Staffordshire bull-terrier.

 

Next day their mother called as they merrily bounced on the trampoline,

‘Come on kids! Come and say “Hello” to your Aunt Doreen!’

While Harvey bounced alone, his eyes were staring – getting bleary-er,

The day was hot, the sun so fiercely shining – becoming glary-er,

Blinding Harvey, the bouncing, squat Staffordshire bull-terrier.

 

Mum came out. ‘Get off, Harvey! Get off the trampoline!

The kids have gone with Aunt Doreen – please don’t make a scene.

Jump down! Rest! Good dog, Harvey! Now you’re looking cheerier.’

She went inside. Then, sitting there, soon the fencing barrier

Inspired Harvey, the bouncing, squat, Staffordshire bull-terrier.

 

‘Escape, escape!’ The dog jumped back and bounced on the trampoline.

‘I’ve thought of a marvellous way to fly and escape from this prison scene.’

He left the yard, propelled on high by a bounce upon his derriere,

Over the fence he flew, then tumbled, falling through the wisteria –

Freedom for Harvey, the bouncing, squat, Staffordshire bull-terrier.

 

Across a park and into a forest, goodbye to the trampoline.

Two people appeared, offering choice and both were smiling and keen.

‘Come with me, pick berries for market – I am the local berrier.’

‘Come with me, ride on the ferry – I am the local ferrier.’

‘Alternate days!’ barked Harvey, the bouncing, squat, Staffordshire bull-terrier.

 

 

By Edel Wignell

 

Born to be a Ratter by Sally Odgers

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Born to be a Ratter

 

I was born to be a ratter

I’m a squabble and a scrapper

And the cats are never fatter

When I hassle them about

I’m a snapper and a spatter

While you’re saying, “What’s the matter?”

While I clitter and I clatter

And I yappet in and out

I was born to be a rouser

And a scrapper and carouser

As a cat’s a wishful mouser

So the hunt is in my head

I’m a scrabble what’s-about-a

I’m a bouncer and a scouter

Of your rules I am a flouter

‘Cos you made me pet instead.

 

© Sally Odgers

Dog Life by Jenny Erlanger

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Dog life

 

They hurtle off towards the beach

to yap at gulls beyond their reach,

with noses raised to catch a whiff

of new, exciting things to sniff.

Their focus locked on sea and sand,

their thoughts deliciously unplanned,

these wet and shaggy kindred souls

are jumping waves and digging holes.

If only they could teach me how

to revel in the here and now,

to halt my thoughts before they stray

to all that lurks beyond today,

the back to school, the daily slog.

If only I’d been born a dog!

 

© Jenny Erlanger

Old Mates by Glenys Eskdale

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Old Mates

I have a rambunctious cairn terrier,

Who is an obsessive bone-burier,

He buried the cat,

But she boomeranged back,

He’s never seen anything scarier.

 

Big Baz has a bossy blue heeler,

Who trained Baz to fetch and to feed her,

He thinks it so beaut,

In the back of her ute,

He even rolls over to please her.

 

Wayne has a pernickety poodle,

Pink bows tied atop her pert noodle,

On four legs she prances,

On two legs she dances,

For dinner she eats apple strudel.

 

Trev has a gold Labrador-oh,

So fat yet he always wants more-oh,

He chewed up Trev’s couch,

Down to splinters – ouch! OUCH!

Then flopped himself right through the floor-oh.

 

Old Pat has a spotty Dalmatian,

Who, wanting to change his location,

Squeezed through the gate,

Found a cute little mate,

And had a most pleasant vacation.

 

Young Ron has a daft border collie,

Who thinks herding sheep most unjolly,

He acts like a clown,

Juggles balls up and down,

While rolling along on a trolley.

 

Wayne’s shed’s where we all meet on Fridays,

A beer and a barbie there always,

Makes the tails wag,

As we gobble a snag,

And yarn about life in the old days.

 

Glenys Eskdale

http://glenyseskdale.wordpress.com/