Something there is that doesn't like hushAnd brings the bad dog to the door
In the wee hours of the lush,
When there's fog upon the moor,
Or quiet on in Santa Clarita.
Barking, baying and provoking the cursesOf the neighbors, both pets and coyotes.
Singing to the moon their sad canine verses,
With darts in their hearts and spears in their throaties.
They rush into the morning to greet her.
Sprung from the house as I was from sleep
And into the darkness' last gleaming,
The air is their mine, the canyon their keep,
And their prey, what the neighbor was dreaming.
Down the steep slopes of dawn, the two tumble.
And my neighbor, sole parent, a few hours laterAppears on her lawn by the driveway.
There's something it seems starting to grate her
As she greets me, my dogs and the live day,
Hungover, perhaps, averting her eyes,
And speaking no more than a mumble.
RUCKUS, n. A puppy's peace.
13 comments:
Adi brought our squirell-chasing barking little bad dog home from running around on the golf course!
I usually am not the first to post, this will cause a ruckus at our yous, surely!
Ruckus! Grammar error above, still first?
..
RUCKUS, n. An injustice of the peace. Rhymes with the verdict wished upon the noisy by the noised.
But dogs are (almost) always extenuating circumstances.
Wow Doug. I am speechless.
What's all the ruckus about?
That was the most perfectly written tale of bad dogs ever. Love the coyote picture on the ridge, as well as the fine looking mutts. I had to chuckle because of how true your words rang. I can remember many nights with raging neighbors calling as the naughty baying beagle ran out in the moonlight, his howls shattering the stillness of the sleeping canyons... Excellent Wednesday writing - I needed the distraction.
Love the poem!!!!
I love a good ruckus too.
Still first, Mr. Bunch. Beagles and squirrels go together like heiresses and shoe sales.
Amoeba, A+ for delicate (and funny) handling of profanity.
Nice of you to say so, Ariel.
Thanks, Terry. Bow wow.
I know you do, TLP. I know you do.
Thanks, Actonbell. I thought about it a second and figured Burns would have got away with it, so why can't I?
It is with great sadness that I make my admission to being the owner of the neighborhood's bad dog... he's not bad really ('cept when he tiddles all over my blessed kitchen) just a loud little critter who loves to aggravate the dickens out of the bigger dogs. And that is when the ruckus really commences.
Fortunately for el boco, he's still in one piece. For now. But I've warned him... if he keeps on yipping, I am going to change his name to John McCain.
Rejoice, Sauerkraut, you are among kin. Waking Ambrose might well be known as the Keepers of Bad Pets Society.
Walela been wailin'? Nawww. In our neighborhood, it's the damn dachshunds. Little yappers. Bucky's the strong silent type. Unless you cross him, like the UPS guy does. XOXO
Robert Frost's nightmare?
Can't believe I missed this...There is a lot of ruckus from the neighbours dogs around here too. And it's not even like we have wild animals. Wouldn't mind a beagle or a Lela to keep the rest of the pack in tune and more subdued! :)
Oh...and just FYI...most palm trees on these pictures need pruning!
Mireille, Walela has a very dignified bay, but not an exclusive one.
Weirsdo, probably. Poets' nightmares are my dreams and visa-versa.
Minka, they are good choristers, aren't they?
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