An Ode to My Dogs

My dogs are nothing special, to anyone but me.

They won’t learn any tricks, they would rather watch TV.

 

Bree is black with polka dots, Brock’s black as black can be;

Cheiss is a fluffy, orange dog who always seems grumpy.

 

They won’t learn how to sit, only Cheiss knows how to fetch;

Brock and Bree just sit there, a ball they’ll rarely catch.

 

 

Cheiss loves to be in water, but Bree hardly ever swims;

Brock’s scared to death of rivers for he thinks he’ll lose his limbs.

 

They don’t know how to hunt, they don’t know how to flee;

They’d rather run away from us or jump up on our knees.

 

They’ll never learn to find a bomb, a crook they’ll never catch;

They won’t learn to track rabbits, or get in a sparring match.

They refuse to jump through hoops, don’t see the point in chasing balls;

They won’t learn nosework either, or learn sports like Treibball.

 

These dogs are rather silly, they’re nothing much to see;

But I’d never trade them in because –

They’re special dogs to me…

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