Page 29 - Online Spring 2022 Newsletter

Hobo - My Lovable Rascal
By Eleanor Fennah

He's naughty, he's noisy, demands my all,
Where's my food? Time for walk; come throw my ball.
There are sweets in the cupboard, he knows they're there.
Hopes I'll give in when he gives me that stare.

No one taking notice, so decides to tease.
Grabs what he can, off he goes, "Chase me please."
I must join the game, he'll chew his prize to bits,
But my game is different - a battle of wits.

He loves to be cuddled, gives kisses galore.
He loves to eat, always ready for more.
Are those crisps he sees? "Oh do pass them round."
He can steal a whole packet without a sound.

He lies on the sofa, well at least, the back.
He wants attention so gives one mighty smack
On the top of my head, and if that doesn't work,
Takes a mouthful of hair, and gives a quick jerk.

Won a rosette for obedience (Yes, it's true.)
Will obey a command at a hand given cue.
But take him out for a walk, he'll act quite dumb,
Won't even respond to a simple "Hobo, come."

Oh, he's a beauty, of that we're quite sure,
But at shows he can't wait to head out the door.
He hates every minute, he makes it so plain,
In the hope he won't have to go there again.

He may be a rascal, can drive me quite mad,
But when I feel down, or get a little sad,
He's there at my side, his head on my knee,
With such love in his eyes saying "Cheer up for me."

He's the second we've had, we should have learned!
But when we lost Cal, for another we yearned,
And forever we shall have that special bond,
That you have once you've been loved by a Keeshond.

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