Mother Whisper

When I first rescued Mother Whisper from the pound,
she was as shy as a numbat and barely made a sound.
In Cathie’s arms she was cradled, cuddled and coaxed.
Eventually, nobody dared to declare her bark hoaxed.
Mother Whisper’s rampaging libido knew no bounds,
she could’ve escaped Alcatraz to track randy hounds.

There was musicality in her furry rascals squeaking,
their squealing racket was truly a form of speaking.
Mother Whisper’s swift tongue was a guiding hand,
to streams of life giving milk, in extreme demand.
Her growl warned that she was intensely protective.
Mr Five Nostrils forgot her pups off limits directive.

However high and imposing the surrounding fences,
Whisper dreamt of wild, solo sniffathon adventures.
Harry Houdini wasn’t that adrenaline junkie’s left paw.
It was a fact no magician worth their salt could ignore.
But a rope long enough for her to roam, sealed her fate.
Whisper was found hanging from the palings too late.

4 thoughts on “Mother Whisper

  1. I liked this poem. It was funny – to start with anyway – and it had good rhythm. I could see this dog. The last two lines, although sad, finished off the story well.

  2. Too sad. I had an escape artist and tried a tether once too. She almost hung herself. That’s when I discovered adrenaline made me capable of leaping fences in a single bound. Then she ended up being an indoors dog and was content.

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