Oscar – I
Oscar is royalty from souls past & this one too.
His paw is to be kissed when he holds it out in front
of your face which he does several times a day.
He is part polar bear part 80-year-old man part joker
joy-filled drooler. He’s bow-legged when he runs
which is rare for his main job is to nap & rest
sit & bark & nap some more. He does not like squirrels.
The hackles on the back of his neck are an army of
protection standing erect at the ready when the yard
or the front porch is under attack from said squirrels
post people and the one feral cat who dares to saunter
past the maple. He cries when he sees a delicious bunny.
Oscar chose us when he was six weeks fresh. His wise
eyes and gentle heart magnetized to our family. Our
familiar – Oscar is the king of our kingdom of Love.
This morning I asked Miller what she’d like me to write about. She said the dogs. Our dogs. Well, I could write volumes! So, poems about our dogs will be a topic I return to again and again.
Happy Tuesday all. Woof! Woof!