# August Challenge, "Dogs".



## Olly Buckle (Aug 1, 2011)

Gumby, our lasr month's winner has chosen the subject of 

*Dogs*

for our next challenge.

Remember that you may approach the subject in whatever way you wish, though of course site rules apply. If you are unsure of the challenge rules please read the 'stickies' at the top of the board, it is disheartening to disqualify people for things like a trivial edit, but rules do apply and will be applied.

Edit, you have two weeks to post, entries will close on the 15th Aug. when I get home in the evening.


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## Olly Buckle (Aug 1, 2011)

*Twenty five dog doggrel*

They fight, then leg it, 
Body gone at a trot
from the catcher.
Sharp eared, long of tooth
Leaving the house of wood.
To nap for days,
Too tired to end the bull.
Wary of the hot gun-fire.
They hang over the sea,
Watch the water full of fish
Lap under them.

_Can you find them all?
_


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## Zabobula (Aug 2, 2011)

_*Doggoned*_

Cats hate them
Blondes carry them
Football players fight them
Media covers them
Police use them
Criminals…who just robbed the corner store to buy crack from the guy in the alley to sell to some other guy who wants it because he has nothing else to do with his life…get bit by them
Cars smack them…not all the time
Chinese eat them
Skunks spray them
Squirrels run from them
Families feed them
Moms bathe them
Dads hit them
Kids pet them
We love them


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## torbird (Aug 2, 2011)

*The Dog-Sitter*

There are two dogs staying in my house.
I haven’t exactly rolled out the welcome mat,
I’ve always been more of a cat person.
But dogs are ok, for a while.

There are two dogs staying in my house.
They’ve been here for a few days now
I’m not really sure exactly how I let
their owner persuade me, to be honest.

There are two dogs staying in my house.
It’s been a week (is that all?!) since it smelt nice.
Last night they woke me, twice, barking,
Barking, BARKING, BARKING!

There are two dogs staying in my house.
Did I say that already? I’m losing track
What with the walking, hidden shoes, lack of sleep,
And did I mention the barking?

There are no dogs staying in my house.
It’s clean and fresh and the shoes are tidied as well.
I don’t miss the barking, the needing, the smell – really!
But still, I admit, I’ve got the dog-gone blues.
A bit.


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## Chesters Daughter (Aug 2, 2011)

[h=2]Joe Gets Another Hash Mark[/h]

My voice was their alarm clock.
Morning whimpers meant
where's breakfast.
But today, her solo was a funeral dirge.
Tossed tidbits hadn't been enough.

An uncaring sun
beat upon filthy fur
as a few flies sampled the taste
of staring eyes and arid tongue
clamped between yellowed fangs.
A skeleton on his side,
tail nestled in the remnants
of a scant last meal.

Pools of two day old vomit
dried by July's rays
peppered baked concrete
as she, who hasn't a name I know of, 
(unless hey you classifies as such)
nudged his neck with her nose
again and again.
I watched dumbfounded
until she sought a patch of shade
and pants replaced whines.
A sinister silence was restored.
This couldn't be, last night at eleven,
he'd devoured the hamburgers I'd tossed,
deftly skirting both puke and waste
to near the house for a better catch.

He shared the fate of first wife Amber
a short two summers before.
I watched as flies buzzed invites to friends
and ten became one hundred.
Bile made a beeline for my mouth
and tore me from the window,
eyes rivalling Niagara Falls.
Joe had another cadaver
credited to his neglect,
making the tally three,
one human, two canine.

ASPCA had been out thrice,
but were as effective as aspirin for plague.
Ears on high alert
caught the sound of the sadist's return.
Miss Noname ran to the window
as the sash was raised
and the gravelly voice 
that makes me gag boomed
"Rocco", followed by a whistle.
Did he think air forced through pursed lips
resurrected the dead?
Every dog's favored lunch,
a half loaf of stale Italian bread,
hit the cement.
She seized upon it,
swallowing without chewing,
washing it down with brackish water
gone green.

Door squealed and out he came,
rubber gloved and carrying a Hefty
plastic coffin.
The tip of a dirty workboot
lifted Rocco's head and then 
let it smash back onto sidewalk.
How I wished the sunburned bald spot
on the top of his head 
came equipped with a bullseye.
He slipped off heavy chain
from a neck stiff with rigor.

He struggled bagging him,
surprising, for the dog had long ago
siphoned off all fat and muscle
to survive, 
leaving him as scrawny 
as an anorexic.
As he tied vicious knots,
I could look no more
but winced at every thump
as he dragged the body 
up wooden stairs.
I have no idea where Rocco went next
nor do I want to, garbage pickup 
was that evening.

I will pray nightly and with fervor
that Joe does not procure another pet.
Bricks are plentiful 
at the construction site up the block
and I don't really need a bullseye
to hit that bald spot.
Tossing food into starving mouths
from a second story window
makes one's aim impeccable.



Unfortunately, this is one hundred percent factual.​


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## garza (Aug 3, 2011)

*A Garden of Dogs*

He considered at first the '54 'vette, 
  But the old Blue-Flame six and the T-too-slow trans
  Never stirred up the blood of the muscle-car fans.

Next on the line was a '61 'bird.
  Too bloated and fat to be called a sports car
  It looked like a tank when seen from afar.

He stood in amazement and surveyed the view.
  He considered the lot, a a garden of dogs,
  From old granny wagons to '60's road hogs.

He returned to his Jag, an E-type so smooth.
  'I'll leave these old dogs in their kennel to rest.'
  And he revved up the 12, and headed out west.


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## Prof (Aug 9, 2011)

*Poor Dutch


The day my father died I didn’t weep,
nor did I on the day of Mother’s death,
nor on the death of any I’d call friend.

So why, when Dutch, my stupid lazy dog
died in her sleep did my eyes fill with tears?
I was surprised but still I couldn’t stop
the flow.  And even now they come to me.

It’s strange but as I write, again I feel
the tears build up inside and force my eyes
to fill with salty offerings to the pain.

Yet why the pain for Dutch but not for Dad
or Mother, or for any of the rest?

I think I know.  I am surprised by faith
at times.  I know that God is good but still
I need these little shoves in time of stress
They show me being human is a test.
A test for me, but also one for God.
We both need to be sure of each of us.

And so Dutch died to prove to me
that I could weep.  That is when the dam broke
and the tears i'd never shed for family
and friends poured out.  Dutch, I miss you.







*


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## Gumby (Aug 10, 2011)

*The Price of Higher Intelligence*


Lazy dog lying in the sun,
I see you;
the fly flick of ear,
scent catching twitch of nose,
one heartfelt thump of tail
as the sound of master's voice
drifts through the window.

Pestiferous words land,
linger in our ears— 
biting at the edges.
Our nose can't distinguish
the stink of deception,
from the sweet savory scent 
of devotion.

Rarely stopping 
to soak up the sun 
that shines 
through Master's window—
we completely miss 
the sound of His voice.

These tricks, so easy to you, 
we can't learn
in a lifetime, filled 
with Scooby snacks.​


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## feralpen (Aug 11, 2011)

*Bounder*

*Bounder

Grizzled head on gnarled knee
He heaves a sigh and looks at me
His eyes like mine have now grown dim
But all is clear when I look at him

I know his heart, it beats for me
There's no doubt, no need to see
The years we've had have passed too fast
Which year near will be our last

It doesn't matter to he or I
The only saddness, the last to die
But a dog and his man must someday part
Alone those mem'ries can break a heart
*​


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## Martin (Aug 12, 2011)

*Just a mammal (Warning - high levels of testosterone!)*

My women think I'm a lion;
the messy blond hair, a mane
so in my kiss I bite 'em -
discipline and make tame.

At night I tell all my stories
to keep in good faith, my flock.
Can't have _this lion's_ ewes
find that _he's_ but a dog.

A girl once thought me a dolphin;
a few tears I might have shed -
told her more of my ocean
and caught her in my net.

Whether wiggle, gallop or growl
do what I must to get fed.
Come morning in my kennel:
zoo's closed, now go on, GET.


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## mandicook (Aug 15, 2011)

*A Boy and His Dog

*It’s a day the boy never forgets
The day he meets his first pet
He’ll feed her, bathe her, brush her hair
He promised to take her everywhere
If only he could take her home
A boy and his dog


Sharp teeth and sharp nails
Not as cute as puppy dog tails
More than he thought he was getting into
More than he thought he’d have to do
Mama just shakes her head
A boy and his dog


She grows up fast, he grows up strong
They had to learn to get along
Now they do everything together
It seems its been this way forever
They’re the perfect pair
A boy and his dog


There eventually came a day
When they were forced to part ways
He was there by her side
A rare day he cried
The inevitable ending 
A boy and his dog


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## Baron (Aug 15, 2011)

This challenge is now closed, folks.


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