You swore you’d never get another pet.
“Too old, too slow, too out of breath,” you said.
“Can’t leave them all alone when I am dead.”
With charming guise, I wiled you out of that.
My well-timed sweetness caused you to forget.
I drove your tiny ancient dogs to dread,
I nosed out everything that I could shred,
I kept the whole menagerie upset.
“The wild ones are the smart ones,” said your friend,
The one who trains the wolves. “Just give Grace time.
She’ll outgrow puppy mind someday. Till then,
You must be firm, but overlook her crimes.”
And now, at nearly two, I can contend
That I am civilized…almost…sometimes.