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THE REAL GOLDEN GIRL

We share our bed with sixty pounds
Of whiskers, tail and fur.
And though she stretches, side to side,
We share our space with her.

With hair of gold, so sleek and soft,
A temperament so gentle,
She prances with her tail aloft,
We swear she's sentimental.

She hogs the sofa with her sprawl;
The kids sit on the floor.
And yet, for hours, they toss the ball
To see her jump for more.

The neighbor kids, they ring our bell
To romp with our retriever.
Returning, back in bed she'll dwell.
We simply don't believe her.

If you should come to our front door,
She'll soon sound her alarm.
But if you enter through the back,
She'll do you no great harm.

She'll bounce and beg and rub her nose
And lick you half to death,
If you can stand to draw her close
And smell her beefy breath.

In younger days, she'd hunt with men
To gather duck decoys.
Now she's had pups, and she's taught them
To carry bean bag toys.

Who is the ruler of our home?
View our family, and you'll query.
Home together or alone,
Our canine reigns! Be wary!

Learn more about this author, Linda Ann Nickerson.
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