Casper versus Dyson

My home is like a boxing ring,
fights take place each morning.
A fight to prove just who is king,
a fight to give a warning.
No dancing like a butterfly,
or stinging like a bee,
The attacker does not flutter by,
He leaps and bites, you see.

Dyson is the underdog,
and Casper rules the roost,
When Casper's sleeping like a log,
I give Dyson a boost.
He doesn't cost a dime to feed,
will eat just anything,
Casper just detests the greed,
of Dyson, the gluttonous thing.

In Winter, when the snow is deep,
Casper plays the wise one.
Forgets the feud for a playful leap,
then digs a grave for Dyson.
Woolly coat is balled with snow,
and indoor heat will melt it,
Dyson just may puff and blow,
if he drank, or even smelt it.

They really don't get on at all,
at least it looks that way.
Dyson is driven up the wall,
by Casper, every day.
Casper doesn't like his voice,
and even less his whinge,
Hates that Dyson's whining noise 
when he chews the carpet fringe.

He stalks poor Dyson with intent,
if he's rolling on the mat. 
Feels he does it to torment,
is as hated as an alley cat.
He seems to leap from nowhere, 
makes contact with a thud,
In fact, he gives me quite a scare,
when vacuuming carpet or rug.


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© October 2004 - Carole A. M. Johnson

My faithful little boy had to leave this world on Monday October 23 2006.
His unconditional love and presence is so very sadly missed.

A Carole's Cottage/Tall Trees Background