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. 


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.

One Response to Twas the Night After Christmas

  1. Mike Keyton says:

    >Tip: Feed him đŸ™‚

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