My crafty canine capers,
Are designed to prove,
How nimble I am,
How agile.

Sometimes they remind me,
That I’m not immortal;
That life is precious,
And fragile.

Other times they show,
Both of us how,
Silly I can be,
With my shtick.

Either way, you’re,
Good at praising me,
And responding,
Super quick!

My crafty canine capers,
Often up the ante,
Making me learn,
New skills.

But, always and without fail,
You crack a smile or grin,
Of real satisfaction,
And I’m thrilled.

‘Cause without you,
I have little reason,
To care about being,
Crafty at all!

The first time I went …

Into that concrete room,

Full of dogs I didn’t know,

Without you by my side,

I wanted to cry.

I had no idea …

Unfamiliar dogs,

And assorted strangers,

Are easy to get used to,

In a doggy play group.

It was so much fun …

Sure, it took me a while,

And it was hard to relax,

But after trial and error,

My instincts got better.

So, thanks for the encouragement …

I’m glad that I went,

Despite my hesitation,

‘Cause it’s good to be,

‘Round other dogs – like me.

Let’s take a trip,
And have some fun,
Together outdoors.

We may not know,
Exactly where to, but,
Let’s see what’s in store.

Don’t forget,
A snack and water,
Plus some rest time grub.

But don’t think,
We’re gonna rest a lot,
On our cozy ol’ butts.

We’re gonna,
Move and climb,
And hunt and travel.

We’ll survey,
Sniff, run, jump,
And scramble.

Up that hill,
And ‘round that cliff,
The one that’s tall and jagged.

‘Cause, secretly?
I know you love it,
When I run you ragged!

There’s a magic word,
You like to use,
And it gets me excited,
When you put on your shoes.

There’s a special look,
In your gentle eyes,
And when you say it,
It’s like winning top prize.

There’s a certain tone,
In your everyday voice,
That changes when,
You make that noise.

There’s a gesture, too,
That you only use,
When you plan to end,
My stay-at-home blues.

There’s the crouch first,
And then the tap of a knee,
Which both indicate,
This is no fantasy.

The magic word,
You sometimes use,
Is the word “outside”,
As you put on your shoes!

Nearly every day little Oli did battle,
Not with people or dogs or cats,
No his battles were with his favorite toy.
A little stuffed chicken with several hats.

No chickens don’t wear clothes,
But Oli’s sure did.
It was always the hats that started the fuss,
As Oli was pleased with each one that he hid.

Then Oli would strut, gloat, and say,
“Once again, chicken, you are beaten today.”
Then he would pounce in a little dog way,
Not knowing that now is the day he will pay.

For the chicken struck back,
Not with beak or with claws
It lay on the tile looking like easy prey,
But as Oli landed, there was no grip for his paws.

He slid and he slipped across the tiled floor,
Whimpering and whining as he flew toward the door.
He hit the glass with a sad little whack.
From now on, little Oli will be watching his back.