Friday, August 26, 2011

Thinking About Stinking

suggested this topic


I've touched on dogs before.......not literally, of course!
So why do I choose a dog today, rather than a cat or horse?
Because, my friends, I'm urged to write about the world of 'stinky'
And then to add my comment by means of Mr Linky.
How would it be to be a dog and love odours that we hate?
What if I loved the perfume of that by the garden gate?
What if I went into raptures when I smelt some mouldy meat?
What if the smell of the garbage bin was something very sweet?
What if that 'rotten egg' aroma smelt like Paradise
And the nether parts of Fido smelt naughty but so-o-o nice?
What if I went round sniffing and wearing a silly grin?
What if I revelled in the smell of my dearest kith and kin?
Life would be very different, that I know full well,
And I think I'll stick with what I've got....
An inferior sense of smell.



My World. Your World. The whole World over!
Remember how we lived in clover?
Remember how the money flowed?
So much was spent! So much was owed!
Then came the dreadful Credit Crunch,
While all our brains were 'out to lunch'!
Enlarge this sign and you will see
A token of our economy!
This is a School Hall being erected;
Government money being directed
To worthy projects such as this
So we don't fall in the abyss!
Just down the road I saw this sight,
And so it is 'My World' alright.
Australia managed pretty well,
But still we feel we cannot tell
When history will be repeatd
And common-sense again defeated.
My World. Your World. The whole World over!
Remember how we lived in clover?


Doctor FTSE said...

TRust you to give us a chuckle!

Mary said...

Wonderfully 'smelly' poem! I wish I thought of it. LOL. I know what you mean. I have two dogs, and I wouldn't want to smell up close what they enjoy so much on their walks.

Peggy said...

I too went to the world of dogs with this prompt! And oh they do like those stinky smells.

Kay L. Davies said...

Hilarious, Brenda. You're so good at this.
I found our dog eating something mysterious out in the weeds in the back of my so-called "squash garden". The squashes haven't grown large enough to be recognized as such, so she wasn't eating those, and whatever she was eating was crunchy, but I don't want to know what it was.
— K

Kay, Alberta, Canada
An Unfittie's Guide to Adventurous Travel