Poetry Thursday

 

Once again, Angel Sammys and Teddys Pawetaton have provided us with a photo for Poetry Thursday,

Frank was a lonely pebble on the edge of the tide.

Sometimes, he felt so alone he cried.

A friend of his said, “’you should try what I tried.”

And that is when Frank ordered a Russian mail-order bride.

 

He downloaded Google Translation

To avoid miscommunication,

He went to the airport, the agreed-upon location.

To meet a man who sold brides as his vocation.

 

Frank had new shoes, a suit, and his hair styled.

He imagined how his new bride would leave him beguiled.

Then he saw his new bride, a five-year-old child.

If word got out about this he would be reviled.

 

Larry told the man of his concerns.

But the man told him he made a payment, and this was what he earns

And here was an important lesson to learn

There are no exchanges or returns.

 

This was quite a quagmire.

He could not leave her alone to a fate most dire

So he brought her home to do the cooking and cleaning parts of a wife he did require

The first day home she flooded the house and caused a grease fire.

 

Frank realized what was needed more than he did a wife was she a dad.

And he thought about keeping her but that would be bad,

So he had to do what made him the most sad

And have her to DCF to find a family that wanted a little girl to add.

 

Fred walked around the house in a fog

Until he realized what was better than a wife: A dog.

Who wouldn’t boss him around like a demagogue?

He was lucky when he went to the shelter there was no backlog.

 

So there would be no wife who would cook and sew for him

And wag her fingers at him

And take money from him,

Just a little a black dog, to be a best friend for him.

And he learned that was what was right for him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wordless Wednesday

 

Beat This Caption

 

Dear Lord, please don't let the cat be mad at us. 

Monday Question

 Do you like belly rubs?

Ruby's answer: I usually don't care for them, but sometimes I like it. I would rather be right side up.

The Ruby Rose Report: Pounce!

For most of the day, I am a sedated dog. If Mommy is sitting, then I am sitting next to her, and Mommy does a lot of sitting now. For a lap dog, a senior mommy with arthritis is living the dream.

If she gets up, I will go to my spot, pick through my bones, and chew one until she sits again.

I also get up if I hear a noise, like the strange sound this morning, a loud cawing, like a turkey being plucked against its will. That one got me going for twenty minutes.

I get down for meals, both mine and my parents, who are good at sharing. I get back down after my snuffle mat and treat tornado are filled, and then I return to the lap.

I don’t know what I would do without it.

At bedtime, I lay at the foot of the bed, and Daddy takes over, scratching me, then pausing to use the wand to remove my fur from the blanket, like reaping the harvest.

I am very peaceful.

Then, at midnight, I let it all hang out.

I begin to chew on the bones I selected to go to bed with me,

The real fun begins.

I get down and go into the living room. I snuffle some more, and do the tornado, then go back to the bedroom, stop on the rug, put my head down between my paws, put my butt up, wag my tail, and growl.

It’s time to play pounce.

It is a game I invented. I play it with my Daddy since he can still go on the floor, which he does, on his hands and knees, and slowly creeps to me. Like a mighty hunter, I wait for my prey to get into the proper position, and then I pounce.

Then I lick Daddy’s face.

It is a gentle form of hunting.

I run out of the room, spin around, come back in, and resume my pounce position. Daddy, a 61-year-old man in his underwear, crawls on the floor to me, and we do it again.

My Daddy is the only man of that age, undressed and crawling on the floor, who is not taking place in an S and M exercise. But the ending is the same: a wet face and a wagging tail.

I then get in bed, full of energy, chew my bones, scrunch up the comforter, and burn off the rest of my energy before bed, usually at 1:30, an hour and a half after my pounce session began.

I don’t know if my parents like it, but they tolerate it.

You can get away with a lot in bed when you are cute.

Even performing soft s and m.

Tails From Rainbow Bridge: Baby

 

I am a small dog who lived in a small dog household because that’s how momma wanted it. I don’t think any parent could have loved us more, although I recognize many would love us equally.

Big dogs have a different relationship with their moms than small dogs. Larger canines are rugged companions, built for the outside, where they can go on long walks with their humans or play ball, run all day, and swim, which I avoid even here at the Bridge.

We are mourned in our ways, too.

Most dogs like to be in constant contact with their people, but it is more challenging for big dogs. They should make unique chairs for dog lovers, built for different-sized dogs.

A parent is supposed to feel only physically. Still, when a constant companion who loves being next to your body provides warmth, the absence of the warmth is an unwelcome coldness, and the lack of barking becomes deafening. A bed with a warm dog beside you becomes as uncomfortable as stone.

That is what Aunt Janis has been going through since his little love, Baby, left her for the Bridge. She is cold without Baby’s warmth, deaf without the sound of Baby’s bark, paw falls, and tags jingling, and unable to sleep, her body not understanding why, despite multiple blankets, she is so cold in bed.

When a dog goes to the Bridge, its parent takes on all the pain the dog was in, all the exhaustion they felt, and the sorrow the dog felt in leaving. This gave Baby and the other dogs a chance to start fresh at the Bridge.

Baby is young and free of pain now, except for the pain of missing her mom. She is still with her mom but can’t snuggle, can’t keep her arm, can’t bring the calmness the sound of her jingling tags always created.

Baby is with family and friends, of which she had many, being a social networking dog for most of her life. And the parents of these angels are trying to comfort Aunt Janis, who appreciates the wave of understanding and comfort they provide. But no number of supporters can ever be enough.

Human life is an audition. How they do will affect what their afterlife will provide.

Aunt Janis has a mighty angel making her case.

For her, heaven isn’t much.

Like many dog lovers, it is just to hear a dog’s sounds, take in their scent, and feel their warmth,

That is true heaven.

Poetry Thursday

One bedroom river views, the ad said.

The picture from the porch showed a pretty cottage painted red.

Fred was desperate for a place to lay his head.

So, he bought the place after ripping out the ad, which he barely read.

 

Upon seeing the house with the realtor, Fred caused a spat

She said the ad stated the house had one caveat.

He would have to take a boat to get to his habitat.

But if he wanted privacy, his home would provide that.

 

Fred rowed a boat to his new abode.

Then, I sat on the porch and watched as the river flowed.

He found where the generator was stowed.

And he had supper, serving his pie alamode.

 

He slept soundly in his bed.

When he awoke and looked out the window, he learned he had been misled.

The tide had gone out, and the water had fled.

He had to climb down the rock, fell and hit his head.

 y.

When contacting the realtor, she said: “I am sorry I didn’t tell you about the tide.

I thought you knew that’s what happened when you lived at the seaside.

But it was in the ad and to the lease you must abide.

Your request for different lodging has been denied.”

 

When he went home, the tide was high

And after rowing home, he made a list of additions he needed to buy.

“I will make the most of it,” he did specify.

But he should have paid attention to the darkening sky.

 

A storm came through, and he found himself awaking in the middle of the bay.

Headed to the ocean down Kokomo Way.

And in a moment, he decided at sea he would stay.

His life would be a permanent holiday.

 

All across the seven seas

Spread the world of Fred the pirate sailing in his red house at ease.

Running a black market, selling linguica to the Chinese

And outrunning the sword of Damocles