My puppy makes pizza.
He bakes every day
In chef hat and apron
he’s quite the gourmet.
He’ll roll out some dough
and he’ll give it a toss,
then spread on a generous
topping of sauce.
He’ll heap it with cheeses
and mountains of meat,
but, still, it’s not something
you’d probably eat.
For though he makes pizza
with obvious flair,
it all ends up covered
with slobber and hair.
Our house is a catastrophe.
The curtains are in shreds.
There’s fur on all the furniture
and “presents” on our beds.
The couch is clawed to pieces.
The bathroom rug is ripped.
The goldfish bowl is broken
and the cat food dish is flipped.
There’s kitty litter everywhere.
The carpet smells like pee.
We went away for just one day
and got CATastrophe.
My dog lives on the sofa.
That’s where he wants to be.
He likes to sit there night and day
and watch what’s on TV.
He surfs the channels constantly
by chewing the remote,
then watches what he wants to watch;
I never get a vote.
He’s fond of films with animals.
He takes in nature shows.
Whenever cat cartoons come on
he always watches those.
He loves the pet commercials too,
and anything with food.
Whenever there’s a tennis match
he nearly comes unglued.
I got him from the dog pound.
He didn’t cost a cent.
I asked them for a “watch dog,”
but this isn’t what I meant.
At Dizzy Dottie’s Dog Salon
we’ll fix your fido’s fur.
We will clip and comb his canine coat
and color his coiffure.
We will primp your pomeranian
and gussy up your pug.
We will brush your beagle’s back
and scrub his scruffy little mug.
Could your poodle use a crewcut?
Does your boxer need a bob?
Want an afro for your spaniel?
Come let Dottie’s do the job.
Get your setter new extensions.
Send your shepherd for a shave.
Bring your harrier for highlights
or your whippet for a wave.
From a bouffant to a beehive,
from a buzz-cut to a bun,
all the hair-dos here at Dottie’s
are affordable and fun.
Drive your doggy down to Dottie’s
for our groomings and shampoos,
where we don’t do cuts for kitties
but we do do doggy dos.
A shark is a pet
that you don’t want to get.
There is nothing less fun than a shark.
He doesn’t have fur.
He won’t cuddle or purr,
and he never takes walks in the park.
Instead he just stares
and intensely prepares,
as he circles and waits in the dark,
to nibble your nose
and your fingers and toes,
for his bite is much worse than his bark.
My teacher said to calculate
3.141 times 8.
I threw my hand up instantly
and so, of course, she called on me.
She asked me, “What’s the answer, please?”
I’d figured this one out with ease.
I looked her squarely in the eye
and calmly answered, “Octopi!”
It took her half an hour to get it,
and then she gave me extra credit.
The Bagel Bird, by all accounts,
is said to lunch on large amounts
of sticks and twigs and sand and stones
and plastic parts from broken phones.
He’ll nibble bits of copper wires
and rubber from discarded tires.
He’ll chomp on tops of cuckoo clocks
and swallow shorts and stinky socks.
He’ll chew your shoes and eat your hat.
He’ll bite your books and baseball bat.
He’ll stuff his lips with poker chips
and snack on sails from sailing ships
and gobble poles and bowling balls
and pick at bricks from fallen walls
and graze on grass and feed on weeds
and dine on twine and strings of beads.
But bagels… whether white or wheat,
or salted, savory, or sweet,
or topped with lox or luncheon meat,
are something he will never eat.
At least that’s what I’ve always heard
about the crazy Bagel Bird.
But I don’t mind because, you see,
that leaves more bagels just for me.
If you ever meet an elephant who wants to join your band,
it’s the sort of situation that will never go as planned,
so you’d better tell him “No” and try to make him understand,
before he starts to play.
First he’ll stumble and go crashing.
Then your stuff will take a bashing.
He’ll be dancing as he’s smashing.
He’ll act like this all day.
Then you’ll never make him leave because he’s happy as a clam
and it doesn’t make a difference if you yell at him to scram
when the only thing he wants to do is jump around and jam
and never go away.
He’ll be walloping and whacking.
Then you’ll need financial backing.
So you’d better send him packing
before he starts to play.
Dear Santa, this Christmas my list is quite small.
In fact, I need practically nothing at all.
My list is so short and so easy to read
because there’s just one thing I actually need.
A reindeer for Christmas is all I require;
a reindeer, of course, who’s an excellent flier.
I really don’t care if it’s Dasher or Dancer.
I’m okay with Cupid or Comet or Prancer.
Please don’t think I’m greedy; I only want one.
You won’t even miss him, and I’ll have such fun.
I promise I’ll feed him and treat him just right,
and take him out flying around every night.
You see, I’m not selfish. So, for my surprise
this Christmas, please bring me a reindeer that flies.
But if my request is a bit much for you,
I guess that an iPod will just have to do.
To learn to juggle prickly pears
can take a lot of practice.
It takes a thousand shrieks and swears
to learn to juggle cactus.
Just try to juggle porcupines!
You’re guaranteed to scream.
Anemones with all their spines
are equally extreme.
To stop the painful pokes and stings
you must get metal mittens
or else just juggle fluffy things.
That’s why I juggle kittens.