Like all dogs, Eddie and I like to receive pets and scratches.

SCRATCHES (Copyright 2013 by Buster J. Brown)

Chin scratches, butt scratches, and belly rubs,
Are sometimes better than a bowlful of grub.

Find the right spot with scratches strong,
I’ll double the effort and scratch along.

You’d think a nice grooming with a brush,
Is something I’d like, instead I’m gruff.

With brushing I’ll fiddle and figit,
An uneasy behavior I will exhibit.

Just give me scratches to my butt,
I’ll be the most grateful of a mutt.

THE END

Hello all. This is Buster. Eddie and I are two very different dogs in a lot of ways. But in some ways we are alike. For example, we look very different. Eddie likes to play a lot with tennis balls and such whereas I never did play much with toys. We are alike in that we like people and want everyone to be our pals. We both like to chase after bunnies and squirrels. We have similar dislikes, too. One of the things we do not like is walking on grass that can be squishy wet. We do not mind walking on wet ground or pavement, however when the grass is squishy underneath our feet we tip-toe gingerly along and are very cautious about where we put our feet. My poem this week is about squishy grass.

SQUISHY GRASS (Copyright 2013 by Buster J. Brown)

Squishy grass is not much fun,
I cannot play, I cannot run.

I feel uneasy walking on squishy grass,
Hesitantly I navigate the morass.

Though snow, water or mud are fine,
I enjoy those outings without cry or whine.

But put me on a grass that is squishy,
Some will call me not dog, but sissy.

THE END

Eddie and I collaborated on the next poem which is one of our favorites. Every once in a while meal time is even more special. We will get some potted meat mixed in with our kibble and vegetables. Mister Tom never gives us too much. Eddie and I think he should give us this delicacy of potted meat more often. So, to let Mister Tom know how much we L-O-O-O-V-E canned meat of any sort we wrote a poem.

ODE TO POTTED MEAT (Copyright 2013 by Buster J. Brown and Captain Eddie)

Glorious, stinky potted meat,
’tis the food we love to eat.

No human would dare to touch,
the delicacy we love so much.

We know the luscious, pungent aroma,
could wake a dog from even a coma.

Once can is opened we know it’s there,
This treat only of which we care.

Whether canned salmon or vienna sausage,
Most people scowl at such atrocity.

To Eddie and Buster those shiftless knaves,
potted meat is what we crave.

Hi, I am Eddie. I am the brown-colored dog in the pictures. Like Buster I am an All-American/Mixed Breed dog. There are strong indications I am a hound/pointer mix. My pals call me: “Eddie,” “Captain Eddie,” and “Ed-ster.” When I first came to live with Mister Tom and Buster I had some simple rules to learn. I caught on quickly. I do a nice “sit-stay” at the door before I get to go outside. When it’s time for dinner I do a nice “down-stay” in my spot and wait until I get my release word so I can eat. I decided to write a poem about manners at dinner time.

TABLE MANNERS (Copyright 2013 by Captain Eddie)

Like Buster I’m a hungry dog,
There could always be more food to eat.
Filling my bowl is often a hodge-podge,
Kibble, veggies but never treats.

I am friendly when eating at my bowl,
Never protective as I dine.
I do not grimace, I do not growl,
Nor do I act like a porcine.

Manners and dining etiquette
Are something I’ve learned well.
I’ve always had a good temperament,
Especially in the house I dwell.

THE END

I am Buster J. Brown, an All-American/Mixed Breed dog. I am a terrier mix of some sort. I answer to various nicknames including: “Buster,” “Brown,” or merely “J.” Sometimes Mister Tom calls me the “Shiftless Hound.” When Mister Tom first brought me home I did not know much stuff. I was afraid to go through doorways. I was afraid of the television and the cuckoo clock. I did not know how to do stairs, either. The person who helped me learn a lot of stuff was Walt. He is my best EVER pal in the whole wide world. I do not see him much any more because he moved thousands of miles away. Mister Tom still talks with Walt and Walt always says hello. I thought I would write a poem about Walt.

POTENTIAL (Copyright 2013 by Buster J Brown)

One man upon this entire earth,
Sensed my talent, knew my worth.

Thoughtful and patient as a person could be,
A true master of the dog psyche.

Given goals, challenges, and tasks to meet,
Urged on by kindness and sometimes treats.

Not work but pure joy these challenges were,
No matter in dog world I was considered a cur.

I learned heeling, signals and jumping the bar,
That man said “Buster, you’ll go far.”

Strange tasks, their purpose I could not guess,
But then my skills were put to test.

Mixed breed and unknown pedigree,
Earning a title in obedience called, . . ., Utility.

Thank you Walt!