Three years ago today
On July the twenty-five
A black dog named Charlie
Came into my life.
A little ball of fur
Who occupied my time
I was certain at first
I was out of my mind.
Where ever he went
On replacing destruction
My money was spent
Months went by;
We both found our way
“He’s a become a good dog”
I proudly would say.
And mostly he is
But I sometimes forget
That a 3 year old dog
Is still a puppy yet
Twas the night before Christmas and here on my land
I was tearing my hair, strand by strand by strand
Different I said this year would be
I’d have time to sit and enjoy the tree
But alas you know what it is they say
When you’ve become so set in your ways:
You’ve got to flexible; learn to adapt.
I’ve often thought that was a load of crap
I was going to be ready; my knitting complete
This Christmas the kids would have warm “little” feet.
There once was a black beast named Charlie
Alone he did not enjoy to be
My parent’s back door
Has a screen no more
As he arrived at church for company
There was a black dog named Charlie
So full of trouble was he
Obedience class week five
We made it alive
Even if on the floor he did pee
Knitting and travel are two Of my favourite things With both I have learned, To take what they bring They can be great but Despite how you’ve planned They both can be fickle, Your planning be damned