Can I be blamed if my brain turned to putty
the first time I ever laid eyes on Tessa
my beautiful clever new puppy ?
Sharing moments of stroke-delight has sent
me insanely accepting wakeful nights
and cleaning up little accidents.
Tessa needs my assurance that being without
me on occasion does not mean I went
away but am still in the house.
Her sad wakefulness starts to subside but as
I crawl back inside my warm duvet
I am needed again, passionately.
When she stops squeaking on seeing me, rubs
forgiveness all over my face with kisses
I give in as Tessa can be stubborn.
I am not complaining as a puppy needs clues
to learning and quite rightly tho that wry
saying"Who trains who" I find amusing.
This is a warm and tender poem about an animal I like. Fay, I would recommend that you read Robinson Jeffers' poem on his bulldog. I don't recall the exact title, but it's about a bulldog, and it's an excellent animal poem.