My puppy likes the water.
My puppy likes to swim.
I’ve never seen a puppy
who swims as much as him.
He swims not on the surface,
but only underneath.
And maybe I should warn you,
he has very scary teeth.
Whenever people see him
they’re frightened of his grin.
Or maybe it’s his lack of fur.
Or maybe it’s his fin.
If you should buy a puppy,
just get the kind that barks.
Don’t be like me. I bought mine
at a store that just sells sharks.
Meet the stegosaurus, Wayne.
He doesn’t have the biggest brain.
He’s long and heavy, wide and tall,
but has a brain that’s extra small.
He’s not the brightest dinosaur.
He thinks that one plus one is four.
He can’t remember up from down.
He thinks the sky is chocolate brown.
He wears his bow tie on his tail
and likes to eat the daily mail.
When playing hide-and-seek he tries
to hide by covering his eyes.
He thinks that black is really white.
He’s sure the sun comes out at night.
He thinks that water grows on trees
and when it’s hot he starts to freeze.
He’s happy when he’s feeling ill.
He likes to dance by standing still.
And when it’s time to go to bed,
he puts bananas on his head.
He thinks his name is Bob, not Wayne,
but that’s what happens when your brain
(although you’re big and brave and spiny)
is very, very, very tiny.
My kitty likes my goldfish.
My kitty likes my mice.
My kitty likes my parakeets.
She thinks they’re all so nice.
The way she mews so sweetly,
the way she sits and stares,
I’d have to say it’s obvious
how much my kitty cares.
She doubtlessly adores them
and thinks so highly of them.
She treats them so attentively
it’s clear that she must love them.
But, tragically, they disappeared
the other afternoon.
My kitty seems so lonely now.
I hope they come back soon.
It happened once, I don’t know how,
I found myself upon a cow.
The cow was startled, too, to see
that she was sitting under me.
And underneath the cow, a hog
was resting right atop a dog.
Below them in this lofty heap
were piled a goat, a duck, a sheep,
a buffalo, a horse, a yak,
and at the bottom of the stack,
a rather worried-looking cat,
extremely wide and very flat.
So if you never want your cat
to wind up wide and round and flat
then learn this lesson here and now:
Don’t ever sit upon a cow.
I once heard a yarn
of a horse in a barn.
I’ll tell it as well as I’m able.
The horse ran away
from his stall and his hay,
so now his condition’s unstable.
“Will you be my valentine?”
said the timid porcupine.
Listening, he heard
not a single word.
“Will you let me hold you please?
Let my arms enfold you please?
Why are you so shy?”
There was no reply.
“I’ll make you my Mrs., dear;
smother you with kisses, dear.
Darling, won’t you try it?”
All he heard was quiet.
“Though I have persisted here,
still you have resisted, dear.
I must need more practice,”
he said to the cactus.
Meet our cat. He’s “Christmas Cat.”
His name, although it’s cute,
is not because he wears a hat
or festive Santa suit.
He doesn’t shout out, “Ho! Ho! Ho!”
He can’t make reindeer fly.
He doesn’t go out in the snow
and soar across the sky.
He doesn’t own a bright red sleigh.
He has no sack of toys
or games to play on Christmas Day
for all the girls and boys.
He never gives out dolls and blocks.
His name is just because
when he’s inside his litter box
his feet have Sandy Claws.
Cats in the kitchen asleep in the sink.
Cats in the litterbox making a stink.
Cats in the living room clawing the couch.
Cats in the closet at play in a pouch.
Cats in the bedroom destroying the bedding.
Cats on the table tops rolling and shedding.
Cats in the bathroom inspecting the tub.
Out in the flowerbed under a shrub.
Up on the windowsill grooming their fur.
Stretching and yawning, preparing to purr.
Waiting for someone to open a door.
Climbing a curtain. Exploring a drawer.
Maybe I’m crazy. You may say I’m bats.
Still, you can never have too many cats.
Nile admired the crocodile,
but Nate preferred the gator.
They disagreed for quite a while
which animal was greater.
Regrettably, it’s still obscure
which one snuck up behind them,
and all that we can say for sure
is that we’ll never find them.
I named my dogs the strangest names,
not simply “Spot” or “Rover.”
Instead I named them “Fetch” and “Stay”
and “Here Boy” and “Roll Over.”
Not “Lassie,” “Patch,” or “Fido.”
No, instead they’re “Shake” and “Crawl”
and “Turn Around” and “Take a Bow”
and “Come” and “Wave” and “Ball!”
I gave them these abnormal names
to see what they would do.
I thought it would be fun but,
sad to say, that isn’t true.
And now I’m sort of sorry for the
crazy names I used.
My dogs cannot do any tricks;
they’re all just too confused.