A Little Night Doggerel

I get up to let the Yorkie out
And by the time I get the door key out
It’s piddling on the floor.
I’m fiddling with the door,
Envisioning dog doo
On my shoe,
When there’s a sudden downpour.
Now the poor
Yorkie’s holding back
While I’m pushing forth,
And we back-and-forth a bit
Just for the heck of it.
Then the wind begins blowing against the grain
And the rain
Starts soaking my shoes,
And I refuse
To let some little Yorkie pup
Keep me up.
With doggone resolve,
I forth it for good. It can dissolve
Out there
For all I care.
Then my wife comes down
In her nightgown
And asks where the dog is.
I tell her out doing its biz.
She yawns and heads
Back to bed,
And after a moment, I do
Too,
And I sleep like a log
Because I’ve remembered I don’t have a dog
Or a wife
In my life.
I call the doctor the next day
To see what he has to say.
He asks me
A few minor questions and names a major fee,
then tells me to see him in person if it gets worse.
But being averse
To doctors’ offices, I’m thinking it would be better
To find a wife and buy an Irish setter.

NaPoWriMo22 Day 17 — Prompt from napowrimo.net: To think about the dogs in your life and see where it takes you. I’ve been thinking of Ogden Nash lately, and his style has influenced this poem. Peace to your ♥!