This Doodle’s A Lover, Not A Fighter
today at 1:50 pm
I’m a labradoodle and folks call me Cooper.
I’m eight months old give or take a few, Sir.
I like my friends, how I like to kick it
At doggie day care, that’s my Monday ticket.
With Emma down the block I can strut my stuff
She’s a hot little doodle, I never get enough.
Through the yard we run, playing games of tag
Rolling through the grass as we zig and we zag.
All through the hood they all know my name
With a proud little bark, my presence I proclaim.
Give me a treat I’ll remember you’re a friend
And to you my good graces I’ll forever extend.
But my folks took me somewhere a few days ago.
“He’s getting so bored, with the old status quo.”
It was called a dog park and it was really creepy,
Supposed to be fun but I view it bloody bleakly.
Went through all these gates like being sent to prison
A place to enjoy that park surely isn’t.
With those cussing curs and a big growling hound,
I felt that the whole concept was certainly unsound.
I ran and I hid from my persecutors
I thought to my self “don’t want to do this.”
I got under a bench where the mutts couldn’t see me
Thought of me and Emma and something steamy.
My folks caught a glimpse of my predicament
They quickly saw that I was just sick of it.
They hustled me out to our waiting cool auto
And she said to him “Yeah, I thought so.” “
We never should have come here, it just doesn’t work,
Our Cooper is best when he sticks to his turf.
So if ever again I hear you suggest it,
The answer is no, don’t try to contest it!”
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