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Dieser Blog soll nicht nur eine Sammlung sein für alle, die wie ich Gedichte, Texte und einfach alles zum Thema Hund mögen, sondern auch eine Anerkennung für alle Autoren und Künstler, die uns mit ihren Werken große Freude bereiten, manchmal Trost spenden oder uns die Augen öffnen möchten für Missstände.

This blog is not only a collection for all of you who, like me, love poems, texts and simply everything about dogs, it is also intended to give recognition to all authors and artists who with their work give us great pleasure, sometimes solace and who also want to open our eyes to the abuse and neglect of animals.

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Ausgenommen meine eigenen Arbeiten, unterliegen alle in dieser Sammlung veröffentlichten Gedichte, Zitate, Geschichten etc. dem Urheberrecht des jeweiligen Verfassers. Leider ist mir dieser in den wenigsten Fällen bekannt. Ich möchte mich bei allen Autoren entschuldigen, die ich nicht namentlich erwähnt habe. Ich arbeite daran, die Autoren zu finden. Wer hier einen eigenen Text findet, dem wäre ich für eine Nachricht dankbar. Ich werde dann einen entsprechenden Hinweis (und/oder Link) ergänzen oder den Text umgehend entfernen.
Das Urheberrecht für meine eigenen Texte, Fotos und selbst erstellten Grafiken liegt allein bei mir. Kopieren oder jegliche Art von Weitergabe oder Veröffentlichung ist untersagt.

Copyright for all published poems, stories, quotes belongs to the respective author. Usually I don’t know the authors of the material and I would like to apologize to any authors who I don’t mention. I’m working to find the writers. If you do find your own work here, I would be grateful for an appropriate message. Then I’ll add a note (and/or a link) or will remove the text immediately. I look forward to hearing from you.
Copyright for my own writings, photos and graphics: Isa of Mayflower. Copying, spreading or any type of publication is prohibited.

2015/11/29

The night before Dog-mas

'Twas the night before Dog-mas, when all through the pound,
Not a puppy was yelping or playing around.
Our leashes were hung by our kennels with care,
In hopes that St. Bernard would soon find us there.
 
Chihuahuas were curled up all snug in their beds,
While visions of doggie treats danced in their heads.
Max in his collar, on somebody's lap,
Had tucked in his tail for a midwinter's nap.
 
When outside the room there arose such a clatter,
My ears perked right up to hear what was the matter.
Away to the window I jumped up with glee,
And barked at the shadows that were cast by a tree.

The glow from the moon changed night into day,
And started me thinking, „Woof, woof, time to play“.
When, what with my puppy-dog eyes did I see,
But a splendid dog-sled, led by doggies like me!
 
With a regal furred driver, commanding, not stern.
I yelped to the others, „That must be St. Bern“!
More rapid than greyhounds, our saviors they came,
And we barked and we howled and called them by name.
 
„There's Duchess! There's King! fat Chance, and bare Buffy!
On Fido, On Scooter! On Rover, and Scruffy!
Go by the red hydrant and run past those trees!
Nothing can stop you, not even some fleas!“
 
And then in an instant I heard at the door
The scratching and clawing of each little paw....
As I pulled in my nose and was turning around,
Through the door St. Bernard came in with a bound!
 
He was dressed all in fur from his head to his tail,
His wood cask adorned with an icing of hail;
A bag of chew toys he had brought in with him,
And his mouth was turned up in what looked like a grin.
 
His eyes, how they twinkled!
His ears flopped, how merry!
His coat shone like crystal, his nose like a cherry!
His big sloppy mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the fur on his chin was as white as the snow.
 
The stump of a bone he held tight in his teeth,
And his collar encircled his neck like a wreath.
He had a large face and a furry round belly,
That shook when he barked, like a bowlful of jelly.
 
He was fluffy and plump, a big cuddly old pooch
And I laughed when I saw him and gave him a smooch!
A wink of his eye and a wag of his tail;
We knew right away we'd have homes without fail.
 
He howled not a howl, but went straight to his deed,
And took down our leashes that soon we would need.
He opened the door and families stood there,
With children, all smiling, and much love to spare!
 
Then he leapt to his sled, to his team gave a call,
And away they all flew as if chasing a ball.
But I heard him exclaim, as he chewed on a bone:
„Happy Dog-mas to all and to all a good home!“
 
(Claudine Gandolfi)

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