Demonic Doggy

Demonic doggy a girls best friend,
Handsome, smart and true,
You’ll not be in a bother,
When he’s looking after you.

He loves a walk at midnight,
Or supper off your plate,
If you take a while to “put on your face”
He never minds the wait.

One moment he’s a guard dog,
Then he’s a playful pup,
He’s always there to listen,
And never tells you to shut up.

He’ll keep you warm and cozy-
and gladly warm your bed.
He never wants for Gore-met meals,
He’s just happy to be fed.

So just incase your still in doubt,
On him you can depend.
Diamonds only sparkle,
Demonic Doggy is a girls best friend.


- Jen 2006

PETRYFYING PUSS

It was a sultry Autumn Evening and the scent of mouse was thick in the air. Petrified puss was preparing for a night in the alleyways and was just giving himself a final spit and polish on his fine fur coat. Sleek, brisk of whisker and with just a dab of catmint behind each ear, he deemed himself ready and eager for the night. A quick scramble up the curtains, some deft tip toeing over the swarovski Cyrstal on the mantle and he was squeezing through the gap in the window sash and off down the street.
His first stop was the Kennel Club where a syndicate of Tom Cat acquaintances were hosting a poker night- five Claw Stud, aces feral; P.P�s specialty and he was keen to win back some of the sardines he lost last time he played.
Then he planned to catch a show and a saucer of milk at the Kitten Club. That Saucy little Manx �Fluffy� was opening for Pussy Galore just before midnight and she was hotter than a cat on a hot tin roof, just thinking about her made his fur stand on end.
All of that purring was bound to have worked up an appetite and Garbage night at the Fish market is a veritable smorgasbord for the famished feline; all the exotic stuff you just don�t get at home- fish heads, jellied eel, and a fresh fin platter to die for.
Sometime just before Dawn a very exhausted and somewhat pungent Petrifying puss generally heads for home. Over the years he has honed his skills at presenting himself most appealingly to The human can openers and he�s a master at arranging himself most forlornly upon the front door mat, where he manages to extract maximum sympathy for his self induced exile. He will gladly suffer extra patting and cooing before scoffing his second breakfast and heading to a vacant bedroom for a nap (he likes it best when the linen has just been changed and his deliciously crisp and sweet smelling). There should be just enough time for some rejuvenating slumber before he makes his great escape back out doors and over the back fence to that lovely little old spinster neighbor who lives there�. And lunch.

- Jen 2006