Who thumps against me in the dark And rings the jingles by the door To let me know he has to *** a little after four, Then barks at neighbors passing by To let them know a guard is nigh?
Who chews my phone and my remote And tears the pillow stuffings out, Then wags his tail with sheepish smiles And makes me laugh when I should pout?
Whose breath defeats my appetite And slobber covers everything in sight And pounces on our comfy bed at night When I have snuggled in just right?
Tucker Freitas is his human name, A wooly Labradoodle with no shame, (We call the "grand-dog" to his face But other things when in disgrace).
So would I have him any other way, Say in a kennel or a fricassee, Or stuffed and lying on a frame? No, I will love him in his puppied self Content to know he loves me as myself.
The company he gives is pure as gold, His eager joy at seeing me is never old; He's healthy and excited each time he hits my door, Tongue hanging out and slobber flying, Four feet sliding on the polished floor, Remembering treats and wanting more.