Dogs. In pictures. With haiku.
OK,OK, they're not proper haiku, because they don't mention the seasons as often as they mention stinky dog feet. And they're not proper pictures, because I ought to buy a new camera with more megapixels.
But they ARE proper dogs.
Friday, June 29, 2007
I sleep in your crotch: Your legs like a hot dog bun, And I am the dog.
Me? You want to know about my life? OK.
I work (to afford dog food), I come home (to feed the dogs), I go to bed (so the dogs’ll have something nice and soft to plop down on).
Oh, there’s some recreation in there: walking the dogs, taking the dogs for a ride, throwing the ball for the dogs. Yep. It’s a full life. Just not too sure whose it is.
NOTE: Despite the decided anti-cat slant of some of the haikus, rest assured that no cats are harmed here at Casa Chang. The pups LOVE their cats. Seriously. Besides, the cats have razor sharp claws and a brooding sense of entitlement due to seniority. No disrespect is tolerated, except for Tigger, the neighbor cat: the Chihuahuas give him a real talking to at least once a day.
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