Phoebe looks so very sweet,
wags her tail as if to greet
us when we’re back with shopping,
haul in bags. Our arms are dropping off.
We see the postman’s been and gone
and Phoebe’s opened every one:
letters; bills; menus; and cheques
are tatters, shreds which Phoebe wrecks.
She’s tried to inwardly digest,
spat out some, swallowed the rest,
but now she sits, her brown eyes pools.
Come on, Phoebe, we’re no fools.
In her mouth, a poppy clenched,
though no thought gives to those entrenched.
For her, it’s one more toy for play.
Dogs don’t do Remembrance Day.
Written in Karen Ross’ workshop and based on a sketch of her dog, Phoebe, created from newspaper cuttings. The dog is clutching a red ball on a string (her favourite toy), but it might just be taken for a poppy!