No sight, sound or smell, as a matter of fact!
I shouted and called and rattled his toy,
the sound of his silence began to annoy.
All of a sudden a shadow loomed large
Emerging quite quickly from behind the garage.
"Good boy, where've you been" I started to say,
but the words gagged my mouth as I started to sway!
What foul rancid odour emits from your fur?
You're no better than Fido that stinking old cur!
I grabbed him quite hard by the scruff of his neck
And threw in the sink before I could keck.
Earlier on we had heard him with a certain aplomb
As he guarded his ground from a neighbourhood tom.
He sure got too close, in that there's no doubt,
To be sprayed, up close and personal before he could clout.
Back in the sink he was not willing to help
But I was determined to clean up his pelt.
He was everywhere claws, his legs all splayed out,
There was blood sweat and tears, twas a terrible rout.
He was dried with a towel to get rid of the gunk
But he ended up looking like Johnny the Punk.
His dignity in tatters, his honour demeaned
Much work to do now to get himself cleaned.
I shut the door quietly and sloped off to bed
Anointed my wounds that were bloody and red.
I scrubbed with much soap, it took everso long
But I couldn’t get rid of that horrible pong!
Next morning I arose with much fear and foreboding
Would he be sulking, his mistress forsaking?
I needn’t have worried or fretted or feared,
He was his old cheeky self – now isn’t that weird?
With regard to the smell that was like rotting pus
It no longer was obvious - at least not to us!
We go on our way with much laughter and fun
And don’t even bother when folks turn and run!