Grumpy Dog and Whiney Cat

Ran away from home

They packed their bags at midnight

And stepped out of this poem.

“The poet doesn’t stroke me

When I rub against her feet.”

“My bowl is sometimes empty,

Even poetry dogs must eat!”

So off they trotted side by side

In search of something real

No more commas and rhyming words

That only the poet could feel.

Until one day they found themselves

Inside a city dump

Where smelly dogs and sharp-clawed cats

Gave Grumpy cause to grump.

They snarled and growled and hissed and barked

“Who are you they” they said.

“And how dare you sneak into this place

Where we make our beds?”

“We’re poetry pets,” said Whiney

“You’re in a poem, too!

If you look up at the reader

The reader will look at you!”

The alley cats and junkyard dogs

Looked straight out of this book

And as they stared, the pets slipped off

Without a second look.

Back down the streets and alleyways

In weather rainy and fair

Grumpy and Whiney made their way home

And they were welcome there.

Now if at times the serving bowl

Is not filled up with food,

And Whiney isn’t petted

When she rubs the poet’s shoes

You won’t hear Whiney whining

And you won’t hear Grumpy grump.

For they rest in peaceful beds tonight

And not the city dump.