Masters of the Pond

By Paul MacDonald, Jr.

 

The pups of Fresh Pond are parading,

As they practice their perfect pond-doggery;

While they pant and they sniff, they don't care a whiff

For the huffing of human pond-joggery.

 

They strut in their leashless luxuriance,

Displaying triumphant tail-waggery.

While they sate every whim, chase a ball, take a swim,

Their owners must master poo-baggery.

 

They've slyly arranged for this freedom,

With the heart-warming art of face-lickery.

Cooped up in the home and determined to roam,

They resort to persistent pet-trickery.

 

Your four walls are snug, but they're boring,

And few hounds can handle house-drudgery.

So put down the remote and go for your coat,

Or suffer some certain snout-budgery.

 

They know you'll be glad when you get here;

So be pleased with the canine man-mastery.

Once you circle the pond of which they're so fond,

Your dwelling may seem sort of plastery.