Monday, May 11, 2009

Blame it on Bisquit


How did I not know that caring for an 8 week old puppy would not be unlike those long forgotten sleep deprived nights of a decade ago, only this time around three people manage to sleep soundly through the late night howls instead of one? And just when I was making so much progress on my commitment to more sleep and less barking (that would be mine.) So on that note, I am linking to a poem I wrote on another day, on another quest for a quiet moment, sabotaged by someone else's control of the playlist and decibel level and their apparent devotion to Creedance Clearwater Revival. Growl on.

7 comments:

harold said...

dog dog

harold said...

dog dog pigeon bread = gloam?

harold said...

one?

i beg and bark to differ!

harold said...

dog dog

dog boy

harold said...

feed it chocolate

cletus said...

the poem, although lovely, says nothing about your ewok infestation.

allison said...

But it says a lot about racket. Which the ewok is quite skilled in.