Thursday, March 19

About A Dog



Last night, I managed to persuade Mr Meep to come and watch a very highbrow arthouse film... it was called Marley and Me.

I am still traumatised by it. It was probably up there with Beaches and In Her Shoes in terms of me actually sobbing out loud in the cinema (thank God it's dark in there). I won't say too much - in case you fancy a good weep yourself - but, well, the dog dies. It's a long, drawn-out, tragic scene that only the emotionally retarded or downright psychopathic would not shed a tear at (Mr Meep, I noticed, didn't produce even the slightest drop of eye saline).

Anyway, I came back from the cinema all cried out and full of love for the Blod. Which got me thinking about how Her Stinkiness rarely gets a mention on the blog these days.

And so, I present, a tribute to my honkiest, hairiest friend...


Ode to Blod

You bark at people passing by
You're always chasing sheep
You wake us up by growling
When we should be fast asleep

Your breath is absolutely foul
Your farts are just so smelly
You're always rubbing fox poo
On your matted, muddy belly

But I love you anyway
You're so eager to please
Especially if behaving well
Could possibly lead to cheese

I love it that you guard us all
By sleeping on the landing
All you want is walks and pats
You're not very demanding

Your tail does 4000 wags per minute
When I walk through the door
You've got a constant sad look
And some lovely paddy paws

When your ears flap in the wind
It fills me with deep joy
It almost makes up for the time
You ate Gwen's horsey toy

It's funny that you steal our socks
And carry them around
And when we're at the beach
You dig huge holes under the ground

So thanks for being my favourite stinky, waggy, hairy pet
I dread the day we'll have to make a one way trip to the vet

1 comment:

  1. I haven't seen the film yet, but I sobbed my way through the last 2 chapters of the book, and I think might have made my chocolate lab (happy) come and sit on my feet while I stroked her ears during the really sad bits.

    Now I'm not sure I can face the embarrassment of what would happen if I actually went to the cinema to see that.

    Poor Marley.

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