It is raining, and the old dog senile sally is all wet
and the scent of eau de dog is in the room.
I would spray her with Glen 20 to try and mask the smell
but the fear of this would make my old girl swoon.
I was sitting at the ‘puta and could hear a crunching noise
but it took a while to permeate me brain,
when I looked out of the window here was Molly on the lawn
chewing up an old bone in the pouring rain.
I yelled at her to get inside and not be such a dill
and so she did - she promptly bought herself inside;

which was not my intention, I meant underneath the house
but she bought the bone up to me with great pride.
So I dried he coat and muzzle and wiped her muddy paws,
gave her a pat and kiss and let her be.
I am not one who’s so house proud that I worry ‘bout the floors
but from eau de dog perfume I might just flee.


Maureen Clifford © 03/11