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An Ode to My Dogs

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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.

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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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