Seas of mud and miles of thistles,
Drizzling now - with a wind that whistles.
I huddle down inside my coat,
Be careful, now, the ditch is a moat!
Dogs all over, leaping around,
Then they roll upon the ground
Finding cowpats in grass, so long,
Oh, my goodness, don't they pong!

Forgot the coffee, forgot the tea,
Why does it always happen to me?
With mud and straw, the course is rotten,
Watch it girls, or you're on your bottom.
Dark clouds gathering - or is it fog?
And I didn't get to run the dog!
Car hooked up to tow truck, white,
Won't be home till past midnight.

Homeward now - ain't seen the sun,
Who said, Agility must be fun!

Joyce Dobson

There once was a dog - name of Boozy,
Who eloped with a small canine floozy.
They were married, it seems,
Led a dog's life of dreams,
With their pups, Choozy, Whoozy and Snoozy!

THE OLDER DOG

Oh! I know that I'm grey and a bit grizzled too,
But it doesn't diminish my love, for you.
We've been through puppy-hood and middle-aged spread
And it's true - these days - I favour my bed ….
But fetch me my lead and pick up your keys,
And I'll race you a mile (with dignified ease).

Both poems written by Joyce Dobson

It isn't true - come sun or rain …
That all Jack Russell's are all the same!
They're tri-coloured, small, snappy - but bright
They bark non-stop from dawn till night.

It isn't true, I know it well.
Not all Jack Russells come from hell.
They're muscular, nippy and sharp of nose,
And all day long, they whine and pose!

It isn't true, Oh! Hear my plea.
My J.R. means the world to me.
Fliss is young and very smart,
Her obedience is a work of art!

It isn't true, she isn't tough.
Of nasty dogs - there are enough.
Fliss is devoted to kids and cats.
She spends forever on our laps.

It isn't true, I put it to you,
This Jack Russell wouldn't say "Boo"
She's pretty and cute and there's never a hint
Of the usual, well feted Russell blue-print.

It isn't true, those things that they say
And I'll prove it if you happen our way
She cuddles my neck with her feet on my arm
Oozing unusual Jack Russell charm.

It isn't true. It's a crying shame
Listening to them apportioning blame
Never would Fliss chase after a rabbit,
She thinks a really disgusting habit.

It isn't true. It's not how they say.
Come and meet Fliss and make your day.
She's friendly and smart. She isn't a fool.
She's the tiny exception that proves the rule!

By Joyce Dobson