Dog, with one dark and one milk chocolate ear,
You come to me, seeking attention and offering love
And paws that scoop the Earth, and a wet nose
That leads you into trouble, often as not.

Runt of the pack, you trot along to rear in walkies,
Happy sniffing your own furrow and
Savouring simple pleasures, tail a windmill,
Your arse plastered with mud.

What was Parson Russell thinking
When he started this thread that led to you?
Perhaps he sought to create
An imp of unconditional affection.

Unable to see a puddle
Unless you’ve first run through it
Unable to see a hole in the hedgerow
Without a good snouting of it first;

And yet, when you sleep and dream,
Your yelping and twitching, filling the room,
Is of the yellow-eyed, and moon-baying,
Silver-coat Siberian wolf.