Happy Birthday to Bella!

My miniature dachshund/editor is one today so to celebrate I wrote her a poem.

To a Sausage Dog on her Birthday

 

Miniature dachs-hound of the Baskervilles,

Scourge of the skirting board,

Our fearsome beast

Is now one-years-old.

 

 

In these last twelve months

She’s grown from pup to dog

And developed the worrying habit

Of chasing next door’s mog.

 

 

More draught-excluder than guard dog

Is our foot-long sub,

You can rob the house and take the car

For the price of a belly rub.

 

 

We’ve learned the thing she hates the most –

How dare the mailman deliver the post!?

So what good luck that her first birthday

Should fall upon a rainy Sunday.

 

 

She’s doubled in length

But gained nothing in height,

When her nose reaches the top step

Her bum’s still on the bottom flight.

 

 

After many hours of puppy training

It has come to our attention

That those great lugs of hers

Are mostly just for decoration.

 

Her masters’ calls are no match

For the tasty allure of freshly made crap.

We must have said a thousand times or so

Those well-worn words, “Bella, no!”

 

 

Now she’s reached the age of one,

It’s too late to put her in a hot-dog bun.

The one-time hairy sausage supper

Is no longer meant for lunch or dinner.

 

 

A year it’s taken to admit

That she’s become the family pet.

So all that there is left to say,

To our long dog friend: Happy birthday.