Twas the Night After Christmas

On the night after Christmas, quiet as a mouse…
the new puppy had scattered bows and ribbons and wrapping paper all over the house.

Clean as I would, exhausted as I could be,
there was always a new surprise in store for me.

When at last I was done and the trash was hauled out, 
I sat down to relax, but there suddenly came a shout.

I jumped up from my chair, alarmed by the clatter, I ran to see just what was the matter.

And what to my wondering eyes should I find? 
The puppy had eaten a hole in the behind 
of my partners favourite shorts…

In rebuke no doubt for spoiling his sports. 



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About Gwendolyn McIntyre

Author, editor, businesswoman, musician, lover of jazz and horses. Chief investigator of all things that go BUMP in the night.
This entry was posted in A loud roaring noise, Christmas, Humour, Paying Attention, Thinking, Writing. Bookmark the permalink.

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