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.