The Competitor.

“He’s got to win”, the woman said.
“A work-shy dog is better dead.”
REX looked at her with questioning eyes,
She only saw the glittering prize.
She worked her dog each day by day –
No time for sentiment or play.
 Sometimes his head drooped with fatigue;
 Her mind was set, she did not heed.
And on she went, from Show to Show
 And watched with pride her prizes grow.
BEGINNERS through to CHAMPION CLASS –
On points she rarely failed to pass.
And as she won, she also found
 Her reputation got around.
 However high the points she made,
 There was no friendly accolade.
Then, at a Show venue one day,
 REX saw his chance and slipped away.
 On, on he ran, with but one thought
By Mistress he would not be caught.
Through town and field, woodland and dell,
He ran and ran till darkness fell.
Footsore, his weary head he lay
On a farm doorstep, miles away.
As stormclouds gathered in the sky
He huddled, with a whimpering cry.
A ray of light shone on his head –
“Come in old boy” a kind voice said.
The farmer gathered him with care
 And laid him in his old armchair.
Kindness the dog had never know –
At last he felt he’d found a home.
One day by chance the woman found
The farm where REX had gone to ground.
“Give me that dog, he’s mine” cried she
REX pressed against the farmer’s knee.
“Not any longer” he replied,
As the dog, shivering, tried to hide.
The farmer fondled REX’s ears;
“Nay lad, tha’ve no need for thy fears.”
Imperious, angry, leash in hand
She faced them, pressing her demand;
Then wavered as she sensed the bond
Which linked them both in friendship fond.
She saw the love in her dog’s eyes,
And knew she’d lost the greatest prize.

 

TRAINING IN WINTER.

It doesn’t matter when, or how
Or which, or if, or whether –
You’ve really got to work your dog
In every kind of weather.

Rain, or snow, or sleet, or slush,
Or wind, or London fog.
It’s no excuse to sit at home
And not to work your dog.

You may be flirting with a cold,
Pneumonia, or the flu –
Put on your boots and take a pill,
 And give your dog one, too.

“Heel” and “Come” and “Down” and “Stay”
But at this time of year,
 You’d best go easy on the “Sit”,
Or your dog will freeze his rear!

Doggerel by Mira (Reprinted from “Off Lead” U.S.A.)


Thanks to Anne Booth for sending these poems (August 98)

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