Twas the night before Thanksgiving, and all was not quiet,
Ma’s in the kitchen creating a riot.
Walnuts are grinding, the turkey’s a-brine,
Cranberries boiling, to the fridge goes the wine.
I whined and I paced not going to sleep,
While visions of drumsticks in my noggin did leap.
But Ma in her sternest voice that I dread,
“Punkin, good boy, now bedtime,” she said!
When out on the street arose such a smell,
A family of skunks come to wish us all well.
To the window I went to give them a bark,
Alarming the coyotes that lurk in the dark.
The relentless roar of 38 Geary,
Calls 46th Avenue, uncommonly cheery.
With a grizzled old driver, an ex-con no doubt,
For bums and drunks a home, just about.
The gibbous moon in the night sky did glow,
Cast a silver sheen on the ocean below.
Barges and tankers heading to Bay,
Await pilot escort at break of day.
Then, off in the distance a flash did I see,
Santa it was, I noted with glee.
Guided by Rudolf he’s off to the Pole,
To make toys and treats, no lumps of coal.
All four-legged comrades be on alert,
The bad dog list you want to avert.
The good dog list is sure to reward,
With Kongs and balls and bones to hoard.
So, attack not the elf in the crimson suit,
He’ll arrive with a sack and a holler and hoot.
But those cookies laid out for jolly St. Nick?
He wouldn’t mind a nibble and lick.
Have a yappy, safe and furry holiday season.
With love from,
MAXimus (a very good dog)