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#canine
As I lay on the floor Watching her as she puts on her shoes. She has a bag in her hand Then heads for the front door. I get up and follow her as she turns the doorknob. She is leaving!!! She is not putting my leash on I'm not going!! I bark, dont go without me! Just then the door opens and she steps outside, shutting the door in my face. I scream, DON'T GO!!! TAKE ME WITH YOU! I just repeat myself. over and over again. Pacing the front room from the door to the window, barking my head off, DON'T GO DON'T GO DON'T GO I can see her with the bag as she walks by the window. She is leaving me again. I keep yelling through the window, DON'T GO! DON'T GO!! DON'T GO!!! I watch her, as she lifts the top of the trash bin and places the bag inside. She turns around and sees me, I just bark at her, come back, dont go! Over and over again. Oh my God. She is coming back!!!! Im barking with excitement, she is walking back to the door, she isn't going to leave me, im pacing the front room again as she opens the front door- wiggling my tail and barking I love you. CRISIS AVERTED
0
May 1
May 1, 2026 at 1:44 AM UTC
Canine Drama
I bear my sharp teeth Clamping down on the flesh All the words unsaid Engraving onto my fangs With each bite I claw open the ribs Spearing the meat The heart still warm As the pulse beats with mine Weak but alive.
0
Apr 14
Apr 14, 2026 at 9:54 AM UTC
I bear my teeth
I bare my ivory teeth, Jaw clenched, But my tail is tucked, My ears lay back. The crimson between my incisors Is from my own tongue A growl comes from deep inside me, A misunderstood cry for help My claws were sharpened against, My own skin, I snap at the hand that feeds me Because I think I deserve To starve
0
Apr 4
Apr 4, 2026 at 12:13 PM UTC
A Violent Dog
I didn’t always have such sharp teeth I wasn’t born that way I did not exit the womb with fangs White as porcelain and sharp like a sword But my canines grew in The very first time that a boy touched me Grabbed a fistful of my *** As I ran across the softball fields They grew longer still With each married father Who complimented my *** in my “tight little jeans” When I was only fourteen, running a cash register They became longer than my other teeth The moment I heard my father Laugh along at the jokes other men would make About *** about their wives, about Pam Anderson My fangs broke past my lips When I was held down and ***** In the back of a ****** four door car His weight pressed against my frame, impossible to run They pierced my bottom lip so hard That I could only taste blood Instead of ***** and ***** Unwelcome in the back of my throat They throbbed with hunger When I learned that 15 months of probation Was the price to pay for serial **** For serial dehumanization, brutalization and degradation They ached with growing pains Like wisdom teeth crowding through When I woke up in a daze With a boy I didn’t know on top of me They’ve grown longer and longer, Like the tusks on an elephant With each and every single ******* man Who has put his hands on me My sharp, sharp canine teeth Have grown so long, Longer than can be measured So that I am no longer human, I am all canine teeth
0
Jan 31
Jan 31, 2026 at 11:31 PM UTC
Canine Teeth
There once was a man from Mauritius Whose canine was toothy and vicious: It once bit the hand That was feeding it and It considered the flavor delicious.
0
Jan 23
Jan 23, 2026 at 10:28 PM UTC
Dog Tooth
i think i might be destined to be alone mismatched attractions never aligned well, maybe aligned for a night but not much more than that and i do cherish the nights i have with others but afterwards i just feel lonely my heart yearns too much for things it cannot have i get jealous about things that arent mine and wont ever be i know my heart isnt destined to be with any singular person and i dont know if i will ever meet someone who understands and besides i have always been told (albeit, indirectly,) that i am unlovable undesirable at best; a means to an end sometimes it feels like as long as i can be useful to someone used by someone i would have some kind of purpose to fulfill and then maybe i could be worth something the reasonable part of my brain knows, obviously, that that is stupid but when someone tells me how good i have been while putting their hand against my skin i will lean into it every single time
0
Dec 9, 2025
Dec 9, 2025 at 6:40 PM UTC
ballad of a lonely dog
I follow your trail wherever you go I chase your reflection from years ago I remember all tricks you tought me once Sit, paw, play dead, dance You raised a stray pup on your own chest Allowed in your home, allowed me to rest I bared my teeth when you asked me to I'd smooth fur on my neck if told so too But you could never love such broken pup For all of your care, I've never cought up With what you hoped for me to achieve My rotten heart forever will grieve My canine mind still searches you The words you've spoken are to me true You are my faith, what I trusted whole Yet you left with all the memories you stole I howl at night when I loose the trail A familiar feeling to be tossed while frail I wonder if you could ever love a stray I wonder if there's something that would make you stay I sink my teeth in the scut of mine All that chase is a waste of time A mongrel could never be a reason to stay I'm sorry it's my fault for going astray
0
Aug 11, 2025
Aug 11, 2025 at 4:10 PM UTC
(A)STRAY
On the road outside Of the fence The Border Collie hears The call of the Doggies On the inside Enclosed behind The wooden fence The Alaskan malamute The Drever, the Poodle Bustle the edge of the barrier Bark, bark, bark A cacophony Let us out Let us come with you Pledging to obey, The Collie On hind legs Of a towering stature Lifts a paw Finds the latch The gate creaks open Uncorking in celebration They run in gleeful circles Hounds to escape artists Unbound and free from tyranny Of a heartless master Marking their new territory Of tree trunks Sidewalks and fields Have you ever seen Such jubilation Mirth and gaiety Wagging their tails Like helicopter blades With gail force glee They take off Like upside down rain Up, up, up Every which way Friends forever Boundless canines In search of the next immured pooch who waits For the musketeers
0
Jan 21, 2025
Jan 21, 2025 at 9:55 AM UTC
Helicopter Blades
your teeth were sharp and mine were filed down i let you gnaw away at me although i would have let you go for the throat tearing away from my flesh my precious artery gushing like my broken heart if only i had been delicious maybe you'd still be lapping up my blood nibbling on whatever's left of me but apparently i wasnt satifactory so you left behind my mangled remains i was your ***** until i wasnt i was your mutt until i wasnt until i was your meal still stuck in your teeth
0
Oct 21, 2024
Oct 21, 2024 at 8:23 PM UTC
Carotids and Canines
Ignorance quashed the feline, Rashness foiled the canine, Cowardice cost the equine, Greed consumes each swine, Slothfulness traps the bovine, But me? I'm doin' just fine!
0
Jun 20, 2024
Jun 20, 2024 at 4:07 PM UTC
Ol' John Henry
You were without doubt the best dog I've ever had. Your death has broken my heart and I'm very sad. When I named you Agnes, I named you after my late mother. I was your owner and you and I had a lot of love for one another. You were a Chihuahua and you were an Applehead. It tore me up when I learned that you were dead. You were pretty with dark brown fur and you were small. You weren't just a dog, you were also  my baby doll. I owned you for almost seven wonderful years. I found you dead in my kitchen and it drove me to tears. What I'm about to say is no lie, it's one hunded percent true. You were my baby doll and your Daddy will always love you.
0
Jul 26, 2020
Jul 26, 2020 at 1:24 PM UTC
My Baby Doll
These are poems about dogs and doggerel about dogs... Dog Daze by Michael R. Burch Sweet Oz is a soulful snuggler; he really is one of the best. Sometimes in bed he snuggles my head, though mostly he plops on my chest. I think Oz was made to love from the first ray of light to the dark, but his great love for me is exceeded (oh gee!) by his Truly Great Passion: to Bark. Epitaph for a Lambkin by Michael R. Burch for Melody, the prettiest, sweetest and fluffiest dog ever Now that Melody has been laid to rest Angels will know what it means to be blessed. Amen This Dog by Rabindranath Tagore loose translation/interpretation/moderniz     ation by Michael R. Burch Each morning this dog, who has become quite attached to me, sits silently at my feet until, gently caressing his head, I acknowledge his company. This simple recognition gives my companion such joy he shudders with sheer delight. Among all languageless creatures he alone has seen through man entire— has seen beyond what is good or bad in him to such a depth he can lay down his life for the sake of love alone. Now it is he who shows me the way through this unfathomable world throbbing with life. When I see his deep devotion, his offer of his whole being, I fail to comprehend... How, through sheer instinct, has he discovered whatever it is that he knows? With his anxious piteous looks he cannot communicate his understanding and yet somehow has succeeded in conveying to me out of the entire creation the true loveworthiness of man. My Dog Died by Pablo Neruda loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch My dog died; so I buried him in the backyard garden next to some rusted machine. One day I'll rejoin him, over there, but for now he's gone with his shaggy mane, his crude manners and his cold, clammy nose, while I, the atheist who never believed in any heaven for human beings, now believe in a paradise I'm unfit to enter. Yes, I somehow now believe in a heavenly kennel where my dog awaits my arrival wagging his tail in furious friendship! But I'll not indulge in sadness here: why bewail a companion who was never servile? His friendship was more like that of a porcupine preserving its prickly autonomy. His was the friendship of a distant star with no more intimacy than true friendship called for and no false demonstrations: he never clambered over me coating my clothes with mange; he never assaulted my knee like dogs obsessed with *** But he used to gaze up at me, giving me the attention my ego demanded, while helping this vainglorious man understand my concerns were none of his. Aye, and with those bright eyes so much purer than mine, he'd gaze up at me contentedly; it was a look he reserved for me alone all his entire sweet, gentle life, always merely there, never troubling me, never demanding anything. Aye, and often I envied his energetic tail as we strode the shores of Isla Negra together, in winter weather, wild birds swarming skyward as my golden-maned friend leapt about, supercharged by the sea's electric surges, sniffing away wildly, his tail held ***** his face suffused with the salt spray. Joy! Joy! Joy! As only dogs experience joy in the shameless exuberance of their guiltless spirits. Thus there are no sad good-byes for my dog who died; we never once lied to each other. He died, he's gone, I buried him; that's all there is to it. Bed Head, or, the Ballad of Beth and her Fur Babies by Michael R. Burch When Beth and her babies prepare for “good night” sweet rituals of kisses and cuddles commence. First Wickett, the eldest, whose mane has grown light with the wisdom of age and advanced senescence is tucked in, “just right.” Then Mary, the mother, is smothered with kisses in a way that befits such an angelic missus. Then Melody, lambkin, and sweet, soulful Oz and cute, clever Xander all clap their clipped paws and follow sweet Beth to their high nightly roost where they’ll sleep on her head (or, perhaps, her caboose). Excoriation of a Treat Slave by Michael R. Burch I am his Highness’s dog at Kew. Pray tell me, sir, whose dog are you? —Alexander Pope We practice our fierce Yapping, for when the treat slaves come they’ll grant Us our desire. (They really are that dumb!) They’ll never catch Us napping — our Ears pricked, keen and sharp. When they step into Our parlor, We’ll leap awake, and Bark. But one is rather doltish; he doesn’t understand the meaning of Our savage, imperial, wild Command. The others are quite docile and bow to Us on cue. We think the dull one wrote a poem about some Dog from Kew who never grasped Our secret, whose mind stayed think, and dark. It’s a question of obedience conveyed by a Lordly Bark. But as for playing fetch, well, that’s another matter. We think the dullard’s also as mad as any hatter and doesn’t grasp his duty to fling Us slobbery ***** which We’d return to him, mincingly, here in Our royal halls. Wickett by Michael R. Burch Wickett, sweet Ewok, Wickett, old Soul, Wicket, brave Warrior, though no longer whole . . . You gave us your All. You gave us your Best. You taught us to Love, like all of the Blessed Angels and Saints of good human stock. You barked the Great Bark. You walked the True Walk. Now Wickett, dear Child and incorrigible Duffer, we commend you to God that you no longer suffer. May you dash through the Stars like the Wickett of old and never feel hunger and never know cold and be reunited with all our Good Tribe — with Harmony and Paw-Paw and Mary beside. Go now with our Love as the great Choir sings that Wickett, our Wickett, has at last earned his Wings! The Resting Place by Michael R. Burch for Harmony Sleep, then, child; you were dearly loved. Sleep, and remember her well-loved face, strong arms that would lift you, soft hands that would move with love’s infinite grace, such tender caresses! ... When autumn came early, you could not stay. Now, wherever you wander, the wildflowers bloom and love is eternal. Her heart’s great room is your resting place. ... Await by the door her remembered step, her arms’ warm embraces, that gathered you in. Sleep, child, and remember. Love need not regret its moment of weakness, for that is its strength, And when you awaken, she will be there, smiling, at the Rainbow Bridge. Oz is the Boss! by Michael R. Burch Oz is the boss! Because? Because... Because of the wonderful things he does! He barks like a tyrant for treats and a hydrant; his voice far more regal than mere greyhound or beagle; his serfs must obey him or his yipping will slay them! Oz is the boss! Because? Because... Because of the wonderful things he does! Xander the Joyous by Michael R. Burch Xander the Joyous came here to prove: Love can be playful! Love can have moves! Now Xander the Joyous bounds around heaven, waiting for his mommies, one of the SEVEN ― the Seven Great Saints of the Great Canine Race who evangelize Love throughout all Time and Space. Amen Mary, Mary by Michael R. Burch Mary, Mary, sweet yet contrary, how do your puppies grow? With sugar and spice and everything nice, and Mama Beth loving them so! Lady’s Favor: Ye Noble Ballade of Sir Dog and the Butterfly by Michael R. Burch Sir was such a gallant man! When he saw his Lady cry and beg him to send her a Butterfly, what else could he do, but comply? From heaven, he found a Monarch regal and able to defy north winds and a chilly sky; now Sir has his wings and can fly! When our gallant little dog Sir was unable to live any longer, my wife Beth asked him send her a sign, in the form of a butterfly, that Sir and her mother were reunited and together in heaven. It was cold weather, in the thirties. We rarely see Monarch butterflies in our area, even in the warmer months. But after Sir had been put to sleep, to spare him any further suffering, Beth found a Monarch butterfly in our back yard. It appeared to be lifeless, but she brought it inside, breathed on it, and it returned to life. The Monarch lived with us for another five days, with Beth feeding it fruit juice and Gatorade on a Scrubbie that it could crawl over like a flower. Beth is convinced that Sir sent her the message she had requested. Solo’s Watch by Michael R. Burch Solo was a stray who found a safe place to stay with a warm and loving band, safe at last from whatever cruel hand made him flinch in his dreams. Now he wanders the clear-running streams that converge at the Rainbow’s End and the Bridge where kind Angels attend to all souls who are ready to ascend. And always he looks for those who hugged him and held him close, who kissed him and called him dear and gave him a home free of fear, to welcome them to his home, here. Buffy by Michael R. Burch Buffy is fluffy but never stuffy. Though she runs forever, she never gets huffy. The perfect puppy. Prince Kiwi the Great by Michael R. Burch Kiwi’s a pee-wee but incredibly bright: he sleeps half the day, pretending it’s night! Prince Kiwi commands us with his regal air: “Come, humans, and serve me, or I’ll yank your hair!” Kiwi cries “Kree! Kree!” when he wants to be fed ... suns, preens, flutters, showers, then it’s off to bed. Kiwi’s a pee-wee but incredibly bright: he sleeps half the day, pretending it’s night! Kiwi is our family’s green-cheeked parakeet. Parakeets need to sleep around 12 hours per day, hence the pun on “bright” and “half the day.” Keywords: dog, dogs, canine, love, loyal, loyalty, friendship, companionship, bark, barking, soul, soulful, sweet, bossy, angel, angels, heaven, Rainbow Bridge
0
Apr 12, 2020
Apr 12, 2020 at 6:02 PM UTC
Dog Daze: Poems about Dogs
These are poems about dogs and doggerel about dogs... Dog Daze by Michael R. Burch Sweet Oz is a soulful snuggler; he really is one of the best. Sometimes in bed he snuggles my head, though mostly he plops on my chest. I think Oz was made to love from the first ray of light to the dark, but his great love for me is exceeded (oh gee!) by his Truly Great Passion: to Bark. Epitaph for a Lambkin by Michael R. Burch for Melody, the prettiest, sweetest and fluffiest dog ever Now that Melody has been laid to rest Angels will know what it means to be blessed. Amen This Dog by Rabindranath Tagore loose translation/interpretation/moderniz     ation by Michael R. Burch Each morning this dog, who has become quite attached to me, sits silently at my feet until, gently caressing his head, I acknowledge his company. This simple recognition gives my companion such joy he shudders with sheer delight. Among all languageless creatures he alone has seen through man entire— has seen beyond what is good or bad in him to such a depth he can lay down his life for the sake of love alone. Now it is he who shows me the way through this unfathomable world throbbing with life. When I see his deep devotion, his offer of his whole being, I fail to comprehend... How, through sheer instinct, has he discovered whatever it is that he knows? With his anxious piteous looks he cannot communicate his understanding and yet somehow has succeeded in conveying to me out of the entire creation the true loveworthiness of man. My Dog Died by Pablo Neruda loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch My dog died; so I buried him in the backyard garden next to some rusted machine. One day I'll rejoin him, over there, but for now he's gone with his shaggy mane, his crude manners and his cold, clammy nose, while I, the atheist who never believed in any heaven for human beings, now believe in a paradise I'm unfit to enter. Yes, I somehow now believe in a heavenly kennel where my dog awaits my arrival wagging his tail in furious friendship! But I'll not indulge in sadness here: why bewail a companion who was never servile? His friendship was more like that of a porcupine preserving its prickly autonomy. His was the friendship of a distant star with no more intimacy than true friendship called for and no false demonstrations: he never clambered over me coating my clothes with mange; he never assaulted my knee like dogs obsessed with *** But he used to gaze up at me, giving me the attention my ego demanded, while helping this vainglorious man understand my concerns were none of his. Aye, and with those bright eyes so much purer than mine, he'd gaze up at me contentedly; it was a look he reserved for me alone all his entire sweet, gentle life, always merely there, never troubling me, never demanding anything. Aye, and often I envied his energetic tail as we strode the shores of Isla Negra together, in winter weather, wild birds swarming skyward as my golden-maned friend leapt about, supercharged by the sea's electric surges, sniffing away wildly, his tail held ***** his face suffused with the salt spray. Joy! Joy! Joy! As only dogs experience joy in the shameless exuberance of their guiltless spirits. Thus there are no sad good-byes for my dog who died; we never once lied to each other. He died, he's gone, I buried him; that's all there is to it. Bed Head, or, the Ballad of Beth and her Fur Babies by Michael R. Burch When Beth and her babies prepare for “good night” sweet rituals of kisses and cuddles commence. First Wickett, the eldest, whose mane has grown light with the wisdom of age and advanced senescence is tucked in, “just right.” Then Mary, the mother, is smothered with kisses in a way that befits such an angelic missus. Then Melody, lambkin, and sweet, soulful Oz and cute, clever Xander all clap their clipped paws and follow sweet Beth to their high nightly roost where they’ll sleep on her head (or, perhaps, her caboose). Excoriation of a Treat Slave by Michael R. Burch I am his Highness’s dog at Kew. Pray tell me, sir, whose dog are you? —Alexander Pope We practice our fierce Yapping, for when the treat slaves come they’ll grant Us our desire. (They really are that dumb!) They’ll never catch Us napping — our Ears pricked, keen and sharp. When they step into Our parlor, We’ll leap awake, and Bark. But one is rather doltish; he doesn’t understand the meaning of Our savage, imperial, wild Command. The others are quite docile and bow to Us on cue. We think the dull one wrote a poem about some Dog from Kew who never grasped Our secret, whose mind stayed think, and dark. It’s a question of obedience conveyed by a Lordly Bark. But as for playing fetch, well, that’s another matter. We think the dullard’s also as mad as any hatter and doesn’t grasp his duty to fling Us slobbery ***** which We’d return to him, mincingly, here in Our royal halls. Wickett by Michael R. Burch Wickett, sweet Ewok, Wickett, old Soul, Wicket, brave Warrior, though no longer whole . . . You gave us your All. You gave us your Best. You taught us to Love, like all of the Blessed Angels and Saints of good human stock. You barked the Great Bark. You walked the True Walk. Now Wickett, dear Child and incorrigible Duffer, we commend you to God that you no longer suffer. May you dash through the Stars like the Wickett of old and never feel hunger and never know cold and be reunited with all our Good Tribe — with Harmony and Paw-Paw and Mary beside. Go now with our Love as the great Choir sings that Wickett, our Wickett, has at last earned his Wings! The Resting Place by Michael R. Burch for Harmony Sleep, then, child; you were dearly loved. Sleep, and remember her well-loved face, strong arms that would lift you, soft hands that would move with love’s infinite grace, such tender caresses! ... When autumn came early, you could not stay. Now, wherever you wander, the wildflowers bloom and love is eternal. Her heart’s great room is your resting place. ... Await by the door her remembered step, her arms’ warm embraces, that gathered you in. Sleep, child, and remember. Love need not regret its moment of weakness, for that is its strength, And when you awaken, she will be there, smiling, at the Rainbow Bridge. Oz is the Boss! by Michael R. Burch Oz is the boss! Because? Because... Because of the wonderful things he does! He barks like a tyrant for treats and a hydrant; his voice far more regal than mere greyhound or beagle; his serfs must obey him or his yipping will slay them! Oz is the boss! Because? Because... Because of the wonderful things he does! Xander the Joyous by Michael R. Burch Xander the Joyous came here to prove: Love can be playful! Love can have moves! Now Xander the Joyous bounds around heaven, waiting for his mommies, one of the SEVEN ― the Seven Great Saints of the Great Canine Race who evangelize Love throughout all Time and Space. Amen Mary, Mary by Michael R. Burch Mary, Mary, sweet yet contrary, how do your puppies grow? With sugar and spice and everything nice, and Mama Beth loving them so! Lady’s Favor: Ye Noble Ballade of Sir Dog and the Butterfly by Michael R. Burch Sir was such a gallant man! When he saw his Lady cry and beg him to send her a Butterfly, what else could he do, but comply? From heaven, he found a Monarch regal and able to defy north winds and a chilly sky; now Sir has his wings and can fly! When our gallant little dog Sir was unable to live any longer, my wife Beth asked him send her a sign, in the form of a butterfly, that Sir and her mother were reunited and together in heaven. It was cold weather, in the thirties. We rarely see Monarch butterflies in our area, even in the warmer months. But after Sir had been put to sleep, to spare him any further suffering, Beth found a Monarch butterfly in our back yard. It appeared to be lifeless, but she brought it inside, breathed on it, and it returned to life. The Monarch lived with us for another five days, with Beth feeding it fruit juice and Gatorade on a Scrubbie that it could crawl over like a flower. Beth is convinced that Sir sent her the message she had requested. Solo’s Watch by Michael R. Burch Solo was a stray who found a safe place to stay with a warm and loving band, safe at last from whatever cruel hand made him flinch in his dreams. Now he wanders the clear-running streams that converge at the Rainbow’s End and the Bridge where kind Angels attend to all souls who are ready to ascend. And always he looks for those who hugged him and held him close, who kissed him and called him dear and gave him a home free of fear, to welcome them to his home, here. Buffy by Michael R. Burch Buffy is fluffy but never stuffy. Though she runs forever, she never gets huffy. The perfect puppy. Prince Kiwi the Great by Michael R. Burch Kiwi’s a pee-wee but incredibly bright: he sleeps half the day, pretending it’s night! Prince Kiwi commands us with his regal air: “Come, humans, and serve me, or I’ll yank your hair!” Kiwi cries “Kree! Kree!” when he wants to be fed ... suns, preens, flutters, showers, then it’s off to bed. Kiwi’s a pee-wee but incredibly bright: he sleeps half the day, pretending it’s night! Kiwi is our family’s green-cheeked parakeet. Parakeets need to sleep around 12 hours per day, hence the pun on “bright” and “half the day.” Keywords: dog, dogs, canine, love, loyal, loyalty, friendship, companionship, bark, barking, soul, soulful, sweet, bossy, angel, angels, heaven, Rainbow Bridge
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314
I’m the dog Sharp of tooth and tongue That bits every hand And snarls at all That walk by it I’m the dog With deep and long lungs That howls at night For a pull in their chest That they can’t name I’m the dog That doesn’t know How to play nicely And is always sitting In the corner, alone I’m the dog The vicious dog The loud dog The lonely dog The scared dog The weeping dog The dog That dog Sitting in your corner Always staring at you Always waiting For you to give in So it can eat you whole
0
Apr 9, 2020
Apr 9, 2020 at 6:18 PM UTC
Dog
I bought my newest dog one year ago, today is our first anniversary. Last year, some nice people cut the price in half and sold him to me. When I bought him, I only paid one hundred. They sold me a Chihuahua and his name is Red. I take care of him and he lives in my basement. When I bought him, it was a hundred bucks that was well spent. When I bought him, I was amazed at how fast he warmed up to me. Red is very pretty with brown fur and today is our first anniversary.
0
Nov 11, 2019
Nov 11, 2019 at 6:06 PM UTC
Red II
I know the process Doesn’t make it easier It starts off with shock Then leads to red anger I’ll bargain for peace Till I sink to depression And hopefully by the end I’ll have found some acceptance I know the process Doesn’t make it easier I still feel the sharp pain Since life's been taken from her
0
Jan 21, 2019
Jan 21, 2019 at 12:19 PM UTC
Grief for the Canine
This morning, I experienced some good luck. I bought a Chihuahua for one hundred bucks. My new dog is brown and his name is Red. He will be my dog for many years ahead. Like other dogs, he probably loves to gnaw on bones. Red makes the third Chihuahua dog that I own.
0
Nov 11, 2018
Nov 11, 2018 at 8:35 PM UTC
Red
Another day lumbers ... My Canine is still and pet my diet is poison-less my Simian; grounded my plumage; tame my imagination is prank-free and my Feline is out of mischief ; in a productive slumber In soothe to say It's better this way And so passes Another safe day
0
Oct 28, 2018
Oct 28, 2018 at 3:20 PM UTC
Another Safe Day
I'm on the run And not for fun The police are chasing My heart is racing When my life is at stake My morality I'll break The police release the hounds I can hear their deadly sounds They want to maim me I want to stay me I decide to fight the charging canines Because I just snorted a ******* line My judgement loses length To my influx of strength I break the dogs' legs Until they beg That's not enough Sorry Scruff The steel gun I fire A furry cop retired The police attack me For defending myself They refuse to see The danger to my health They chose to use crazy canines So I feel the fault isn't mine That doesn't change their decision For me to die slowly in prison I am in the teeth of the government Much to my human wonderment This is the way I'll spend the rest of my life For the decisions I made at the end of a knife The irony is cops **** dogs all the time Yet they obstruct their vision of the line Where it ceases to be man versus society And becomes man versus nature When a man is in peril He must turn feral But in a country that blindly idolizes aggression The police don't acknowledge this discretion They dig their teeth into our skin While draining us financially The only way we'll ever win Is if things change substantially Sadism fervently fuels the flames of conflict With an exasperated public sick of being kicked Cruelty is what they witness To lose their mental fitness How can they protect their babies When the police have rabies? The police relationship with the effected public will never shift When there's a Cereberus between them maintaining the rift
0
Oct 24, 2017
Oct 24, 2017 at 5:35 AM UTC
Canine
I'm on the run And not for fun The police are chasing My heart is racing When my life is at stake My morality I'll break The police release the hounds I can hear their deadly sounds They want to maim me I want to stay me I decide to fight the charging canines Because I just snorted a ******* line My judgement loses length To my influx of strength I break the dogs' legs Until they beg That's not enough Sorry Scruff The steel gun I fire A furry cop retired The police attack me For defending myself They refuse to see The danger to my health They chose to use crazy canines So I feel the fault isn't mine That doesn't change their decision For me to die slowly in prison I am in the teeth of the government Much to my human wonderment This is the way I'll spend the rest of my life For the decisions I made at the end of a knife The irony is cops **** dogs all the time Yet they obstruct their vision of the line Where it ceases to be man versus society And becomes man versus nature When a man is in peril He must turn feral But in a country that blindly idolizes aggression The police don't acknowledge this discretion They dig their teeth into our skin While draining us financially The only way we'll ever win Is if things change substantially Sadism fervently fuels the flames of conflict With an exasperated public sick of being kicked Cruelty is what they witness To lose their mental fitness How can they protect their babies When the police have rabies? The police relationship with the effected public will never shift When there's a Cereberus between them maintaining the rift
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52
my dog speaks to me sometimes she says "people is stupid"
0
Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 3:03 PM UTC
Canine
Today my Chihuahua and I celebrate our 4th anniversary. But something happened two weeks ago that was scary. I had to rush my dog to the vet because she was sick. She almost died because she was paralyzed by a tick. She couldn't move or eat and I was scared she would die. I was afraid that I would end up having to say goodbye. She got better after people prayed and there is one thing that I understand. I'm celebrating my 4th anniversary with a wonderful dog and I'm a lucky man.
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Aug 27, 2017
Aug 27, 2017 at 9:08 AM UTC
4th
dog all night long dog your old song dog all night long how your friends   yelp growl  howl dog your old song dog all night long dog mad decibel gall   dog your old song dog one pelts stone dog guard flings stick dog your old song dog your old song dog your old song dog all night long run dog run dog run early tomo' morn dog catcher prowling run dog run dog run run dog run dog run
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Jul 2, 2017
Jul 2, 2017 at 10:22 AM UTC
your old song, dog
He set a motion that tied the night with a surge of peace through flight A walk at pardoned him for this fight the doorway sought now as his fortune with the moon! And a primal scream that retaliated fraught but down by fairgrounds his doggy run still furry friends rode in heat, and they couldn't be sheep in these latitudes that wool adorn when a caper was a precedent. If ghosts perched upon the cases where sprinkles attended from where they stay but they must defame those breeds with suggestive wiles they rehearsed. furthermore their embrace did employ what dignified lust was another cornflower day
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Jun 9, 2017
Jun 9, 2017 at 4:26 PM UTC
A Beguiling Dog
I see all of the worst decisions I've ever made, All of the wrong, that I have done. It follows me, in the worst of ways. But a dog, an especially this one, This gentle, brindle soul. Every bit of good I've ever done Walks in each stride of her white paws. The clouds of misery, which often find themselves looming, in despicable ways. Evaporate in the lick of a tongue on my cheek. Or often, a toothy smile, which I do not deserve. She is boundless, for who am I to contain her.
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Jun 6, 2017
Jun 6, 2017 at 11:23 PM UTC
Saving Grace
Jasper my best canine friend, I have a message to send, Ears so big, fluffy and free, Always put a smile on me, Oval sandy rock eyes stare, Fur as dark as a black bear, Coat so shiny lions mane, Spirit animal large chain, Mischevious wagging tail, Someone outside bark and wail, Muddy prints from paws alike, Not an aspect I dislike.
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Apr 29, 2017
Apr 29, 2017 at 7:31 PM UTC
Jasper