THE DOG HAS A NAME

The noise was so irate!
The barking—a nonstop rate.
I could only lie here and wait...

Wait for the sun to shine
then drag myself to the daily assembly line.
Crawling my way back home,
thinking only of my new memory foam.

As my head hit the pillow,
dreams of sleep stolen as the bellow
echoed outside my window.

No longer can I accept this hound
to call on the moon and cry his sound,
destroying my precious, soundless sleep.
Tonight, in my neighbor's yard I will creep.

No violence I swear,
but with wisdom and care
I will forever end this nightly affair.

Just a few bloody steaks
and a large cage for the uptake—
This should be enough to ease the earaches.

At arms, and carefully prepensed,
first slab now over the fence.
He chomps the meat—
I open the gate and repeat.

Sensing more meat, he leaps on in.
From behind, I close the cage and lock the lynchpin.
Grinning ear to ear I've captured the enemy herein!

We'll wait until morning, then I will drive,
and to a new home he will arrive.

As I hit the pillow,
Dreams of sleep stolen as the cry and bellow
howled outside my window.

A little girl crying out for her lost puppy.
Now he had a name, Rusty.
How could I take Rusty away?
I was suddenly filled with dismay.

I took the dog back to his home.
Then to the drugstore I did roam—
A simple box of earplugs purchased;
the sweetest, soundest sleep compassed.