Dogs
by Marchette Chute
The dogs I know Have many shapes. For some are big and tall, And some
are long, And some are thin, And some are fat and small. And some are
little bits of fluff And have no shape at all.
My Dog
by Marchette Chute
His nose is short and scrubby;
His ears hang rather low;
And he always brings the stick back, No matter how far you throw.
He gets spanked rather often For things he shouldn’t do, Like
lying-on-beds, and barking, And eating up shoes when they’re new.
He always wants to be going Where he isn’t supposed to go.
He tracks up the house when it’s snowing— Oh, puppy, I love you so.
After a Bath
by Aileen Fisher
After my bath
I try, try, try to wipe myself till I’m dry, dry, dry.
Hands to wipe and fingers and toes and two wet legs and a shiny nose.
Just think how much less time I’d take if I were a dog and could shake,
shake, shake.
The Hairy Dog
by Herbert Asquith
My dog’s so furry I’ve not seen His face for years and years: His eyes
are buried out of sight, I only guess his ears.
When people ask me for his breed, I do not know or care:
He has the beauty of them all Hidden beneath his hair.
