You plunged into the breakers
like a hurdling hydrofoil.
No shark ever hunted a seal,
with the intensity you chased tennis balls.
After a month of fishing in a wheelbarrow,
you never did figure out the splashes
were from dripping guttering;
so it’s no surprise
being kicked in the head by a horse
failed to make you any dopier
than you already were.
You’ve been plucked from canals.
and survived a Red Belly Black attack
by biting that rampant reptile in half.
What a striver, what a survivor,
and at the scent of food,
or anything vaguely resembling it,
what a furry reservoir of saliva.
How many metres of carpet was it
that we hauled from your arse?
What a striver, what a survivor!
Eventually though, every dog has to die,
take a trip to the Pet Barn in the sky.