There’s very little of my near-70 years
When we did not own a pup or two.
Unlike cats who have attitude,
Dogs have character – almost human, I say.
We own five and are dog-sitting another.
But Puppy #8 is and will be my all-time favorite.
He’s called Bear, but it doesn’t fit.
I remember him as that puppy I hoped no one would buy.
He’s becoming a nuisance to his poppa, Gunny.
Who growls and stands over him,
And he whimpers and howls.
No, Gunny! Stop that! We say…
And Bear comes to us like he’s escaped death!
Jubilant. Happy. Ecstatic. You know.
Let me jump on you and tell you how much you mean to me!
He’s become quite the escape artist.
Fences don’t necessarily hold him.
Slithers through the smallest crack,
Or leaps 5-6 feet and sets himself free.
I find he’s happiest when he’s just walking with me.
He takes my hand in his big teethed mouth
And walks me to my office or the barn.
We think we named him wrongly.
He’s not a bear, though he’s the biggest of all our dogs
He’s more like Scooby Doob, you know, cartoon fame?
Happy-go-lucky, skipping along, trying to carry two or three balls simultaneously.
But toss his ball to the fields, and he’s fleet of foot!
Those ears lay back, and it’s hard to tell
Whether he’s a German Shepherd or a Torpedo!
He’s learned to howl, imitating the Coyotes.
Deep sound, soulful, and seldom used.
But late in the evening, if he does it,
You know he’s calling the coyotes home.
Don’t tempt them! They are killers!
Well. Anyway. I wanted to give credit where credit is due.
I fell in love with him when his eyes and ears
Could not even see or hear…
I think he loves me, too.
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