Yesterday I wrote a little dog blog. A bloggy about a doggy. Apparently, our daughter, Samantha, and I are on the same wave-length...a frightening thought for her teachers, I'm sure. (Speaking of teachers, the other day, our youngest son, Harrison, age 11, showed a bit of temper during class and was asked to go out in the hall. The very understanding teacher went out to find out why he was upset. After explaining his side of the story, she said she understood and he should tell his mom and dad he's not in trouble. Harrison responded: "Well, my mom will probably say 'Oh, Harry.' But, my dad won't be mad because his own school record isn't exactly clean." Watch this space for reasons why Harrison would say that.) Back to Samantha. She let the Cone-Headed Golden Retriever, Casey, out yesterday morning...in that light falling snow...and he was ready to play. That inspired her to write the following poem. Now, if you're thinking that I'm again using the work of someone else to fulfill my responsibilities...like I did with my brother's letter last week...you're absolutely correct. If I could convince people that I actually knew how to make pancakes and grow tomatoes, I'd be stealing from The Letter From Larry! Anyway, here's the latest from our family's poet laureate:


Snow Dogs

The snow is falling
It is on the ground
Casey is sitting up on a snow mound

Checkers, the old one,
Is jumping around
Catching the snowballs
Before they hit the ground

Casey looks up with his lazy eyes
He stands up slowly
Then runs with a burst!
He's a competitive dog...he'll try to catch 'em first

Checkers just looks at him
She doesn't mind
The snow will keep falling
They've got plenty of time

Finally, a friend comes out of the house
She's happy to throw snow for awhile
But then she gets cold
So, she and Casey lie lazily in a pile

Checkers just looks, with her cocked, little head
Then she plays some more
Who needs to go to bed?

She chases the snowballs
She chases the flakes
For her, a snowy day
Is certainly great!

Well, Checkers is gone, she left when it was hot
Now, covered with ice, a cross marks her spot
It's winter right now, and I think I know,
She's playing with God in some heavenly snow.