I’m sorry, I’m tired this evening, going to have a rest, so here’s something from the archive. Oh, Ok then, just a little something new, for dessert, to raise a smile.

He’s about 18” tall, he’s got sharp bits at one end, a waggly bit at the other, too many legs no arms, but plenty of charisma.

He is,

The Grand Dog.

Most people have grand kids, those bundles of joy, But we don’t want one a girl or a boy! We had our two boys, and that was enough, so what do we get now? A big ball of fluff!

He comes to our house this hairy tornado with attitude, we try and hide everything, that could ever possibly be chewed. Tigger has nothing on this monstrous being, we put down a mat, but on the floor he likes peeing.

If I was Stretch Armstrong, it wouldn’t be bad, but I can only dream now of the arms I once had. He pulls and he pulls and never gets tired, I think maybe from a mule he was sired.

“He looks just like Boris” as he sat on the mat, but looks can be deceptive, he’s much cleverer than that. He knows how to wrap us around his little claw, he makes our hearts sing with a lift  of his paw.

So here we have him Logan the dog, chaser of ball, not yet bringer of log. He’s part of our life now, and that way can stay, we wouldn’t now have it any other way.

My love

My love has got a red, red nose, But mine is full of boogies, It’s something that the populous knows, To be the case with most old fogeys.

All words Meadowhead Bard.