“Love is a four-legged word,”  says painter Leo Asto,

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Ode to a Four-Legged Friend

(after tea, and probably a biscuit

 

You’re short of leg and long of will,
A trotter, snuffler, never still.
You guard the hall, the chair, the stair,
And any handbag left in care.

You claim the sofa as your throne,
Declare all squeaky toys your own.
You nap with sighs of deep concern,

And dream of walks at every turn.

A tyrant wrapped in russet fur,
With soulful eyes and one faint burr—
You steal my socks, my heart, my time,
And leave your pawprints in my rhyme