The canine cacophony of m’ mate Podge made
little progress with his plan t’ gain a share of my
toast early this AM; he probably already knew it
wasn’t fated to be a success, he’d tried it on th’
Boss Lady & dismally failed: but then she’s only
a one piece o’ toast breakfaster & chances slim
as such, whereas with me, and two, he sees it’s
statistically fair-go - and usually winnable game
Chastened tho not daunted meant biding a time
or three and he departed to where only he has a
clue of th’ exact location - & silence ensues; it’s
an uneasy truce which we know well won’t last -
he’ll be back forsooth, and we’ll be bombarded
with an unending invective about ‘maltreatment’
When asked if he meant ‘malnourishment’, with
sly references to his being overweight, he is not
inclined t’ relent and agree that is the true case;
it can’t be me, he contends, I’m too busy being
your canine compadre, th’ good cobber & mate
y’ really need as first choice in great company
© 19 February 2018, I. D. Carswell
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