More on Rufuz…

When Rufuz lays on the floor,

Like that of a rug made of bear,

I sometimes walk on him,

Not noticing he is even there,

He has all this hair,

That gets to be everywhere,

You would be surprised where it’s found,

But I guess that is the nature of my hound,

He sits and stares,

Waiting for daddy to take him, you know, “out there”,

Can’t say the “out” or “walk” words,

Without seeing him in your face,

Hell, can’t even spell the damn words anymore,

As he seems to know how to spell,

That must be the case,

He also knows when daddy has to go to work,

He watches me shower & dress,

Who knows, maybe he is one of “those” kinda dogs,

But no matter, he makes me happy,

And isn’t that all that really matters?

                                     (ed)