Ode to Mr. Chewman

So carefully were you chosen so many months ago

By a happy Belgian puppy when his mommy let him go.

They'd come to shop for toys that day and it was you he took.

How could we know in later days you'd end up with this look?

 

You whiled away the happy hours with the little Belgian boy

From time to time forgotten, but still his favourite toy.

The spins you took in the washer never seemed to bother you

But as this day grew closer I wonder if you knew.

 

On a hot and sunny summer day, no different from the rest

I heard a distant rumbling, more storms coming from the west?

By then the floor was shaking and the walls were trembling too,

"Look out!", I cried, "A Belgian stampede!" but it was too late for you.

 

Both boys it seems had chosen you to play with on that day

And the tug of war that followed had you caught amidst the fray.

I heard your laces giving way that horrid ripping sound

I didn't hurry down the stairs. I knew what would be found.

 

There was stuffing in the hallway. There was stuffing on the stair.

There was stuffing on the carpet. There was stuffing in the air.

There was stuffing on the sofa. There was stuffing on the wall.

There was so much stuffing, I thought I'd never find it all.

 

There was stuffing in the kitchen. There was stuffing in my hair.

There was stuffing in the stereo. How did that get there?

I finally found your un-stuffed form sprawled limply on the floor.

Your head was ripped your arm half off I knew you'd play no more.

 

I cast about and hunted for your squeaker long I quested.

But it was no where to be found, it must have been ingested.

I can not say that I was shocked by what they did my friend.

I only hope your sweet revenge will come out in the end.

 

(Judith D. Steele)