Fido may have had a stereo-typical name,
But the way he thought was nothing the same
As the other dogs he knew.
While other dogs were open and honest,
Fido was stealthy, or sneaky at best.
As far as mischief he knew exactly what to do.
Don’t get me wrong, Fido was not mean,
He just didn’t like things he thought were obscene.
Such as things done against nature
Or things done out of contempt.
Things like obedience classes where he was sent.
For this he was too mature.
A dog was its self, and should allowed to be free.
And he felt that way about all he could see.
So every September when his people were in the yard,
Fido had a job to put everything right,
Even though he knew it meant a big fight.
Every year it was one he fought hard.
The people raked leaves into large piles.
To short little Fido, the piles went for miles.
Unnatural! Insensible! The trees had let loose
And people should leave them wherever they fell,
Not rake them into a monstrous swell.
It made no more sense than a golden-egged goose.
They had taken to locking him tightly in doors.
So they thought it would even the score.
But wily Fido could always sneak out.
This year it came when a person came in for a drink.
The person didn’t realize ‘til he reached the sink.
He had left the door open, and Fido slipped out.
With a yap and leap little Fido dispelled
The leaves flying and once again were they felled.
The people shrieked at Fido’s brute force.
But Fido puffed up with pride by his own actions
And they dragged him inside with his look of satisfaction.
He’d do it again because it was the only logical course.