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AUTHOR’S NOTE: ‘Doggerel Show’ is the prelude to my current episodic, ‘Doggerel Tails’. I am compressing the ten episodes of ‘Doggerel Show’ into three volumes, as an aid to the reader in the unlikely event that someone should attempt to follow the plot from end to end. Volume III(this one) covers original episodes eight through ten, with minimal editing.

* * *


So I scooped up my pet Peeve and I was thinking maybe now he’s a perk-epoo because he smelled like coffee and I was about to tell the old man that was coffee on his sandal not Peeve pee because I thought he was about to yell some more but he wasn’t saying anything just kind of grabbing at his throat and making faces and each face he made was a little bit more blue than the last one. That made me think of the little long dog named after that maneuver that I was thinking would probably be a good thing to know how to do right about then.

So then Peeve (that’s his name now) wiggled out of my arms again and jumped up on the old man and he (the old man) staggered back a bit and then he (the old man again) stepped in and slipped on something the mule must have left on the floor when he (the mule) was startled by Peeve (although he wasn’t named Peeve yet when that happened) and landed flat on his back (the old man did).

The hot dog chunk popped straight up out of his (the old man’s) mouth and then the Chihuahua leaped out of the sombrero-wearing man’s grasp and caught it (the hot dog chunk) in the air!

Then the sombrero-wearing man said, “He usually won’t eat anything but Mexican food” and took a sip from his dripping coffee cup and then I noticed the old man’s cage on the floor with the door hanging open and the little Chihuahua heading towards it.

So I bent over and picked up Peeve again and now the cops who were really security guards came over and the tall one said to the old man,
“Why don’t you take your dog, err…”
“El gato” interrupted the sombrero-wearing man.
“Yeah.” Said the short cop who was really a security guard. “Why don’t you take your doggerel gato and get out of here and save us all some more trouble.” Then the tall one elbowed him and told him (the short one) to be quiet.

Then the cat with the hat strapped to his head stumbled out of the cage.

* * *


So the cat with the hat strapped onto his head staggered from the dropped doggie box with a dazed look. The man in the sombrero picked up his Chihuahua, who looked like he was smiling again (the dog not the man). Then a long little doggie trotted our way.

“Come back here, Longfellow!” shouted (see punctuation) a woman who was probably his (I figured he that is the dog was a him because of the fellow in Longfellow) owner.

The cat was just regaining his wits and as his eyes uncrossed he turned his head toward Longfellow.

The cat arched his back and hissed and for a moment looked just like the scariest Halloween cat I had ever seen (except that he wasn’t all black he had white feet).

When that cat hissed every dog there got quiet and looked toward the cat.

Then Longfellow (the long little doggie but not the one named after the maneuver or one of the Oscars- Wow, it blew my mind again) let out a howl and charged at the cat. (Well at first he just kind of peeled paws on the slippery floor with lots of scratching and clicking.)

Then the cat bolted toward the center ring and almost every dog that wasn’t on a leash (and some that were- the big dogs with small owners) charged after them.

Longfellow (see previous explanation) bellowed and barked in hot pursuit. I would never have thought a long little dog with short little legs could move that fast (or look so mean)! If not for his (Longfellow’s) slippery start the chase would probably have ended before it really started.

Just about in the center of the ring the cat suddenly stopped and turned and gave Longfellow his best Halloween-style hiss and arch that stopped Longfellow in his tracks or it would have if not for the slippery floor (I guess cats are better at stopping on slippery floors at least if they plan it but it’s a surprise for the dog because I’ve seen a cat slip on a slippery floor and crash into a wall when they didn’t expect it) and Longfellow slid right into him (the cat) and they both tumbled together and slid apart and then Longfellow got back up and bellowed and peeled paws clicking and scratching and the cat hissed and arched and then a mass of dogs converged on them in a frenzy of mad dog madness.

* * *


So the dogs converged in the center of the ring upon the cat with a hat strapped onto his head and the long little doggie named Longfellow and the short security guard who wasn’t really a cop started screaming and pulling on the tall one’s (security guard not a cop) sleeve and the tall one (same tall one) smacked the short one (same short one) with the back of his hand and pulled out his (the tall one did) not-a-cop radio and started screaming for backup we need backup and the short one started to back up and the tall one smacked him with the front of his hand this time and yelled (see punctuation) “Not you, dummy!” and apparently they concluded that until backup arrived their most prudent course of action would be to apprehend and subdue the instigator of this madness, the wild white-haired and bearded little old man who was still lying on his back where he had slipped on the mule turd and fell after Peeve (that’s my puppy’s name now) jumped up on him (the old man) and he was still making faces but none of them were blue but sort of red and now he was making noises mainly moaning because he wasn’t plugged up with hot dog any more so he was pretty well subdued already and apprehending him would be much easier than dealing with the dog dilemma in the center of the ring which apparently was best left to the real cops en route.

So the security guards told the old man not to move and stood by to make sure he didn’t while the owners of the dogs retrieved their own dogs from the melee so that by the time the real cops got there only about half a dozen dogs were left in the ring and they helped the owners separate them until only Longfellow remained happily wagging his tail with a little red ball in his mouth…

…with a little hat strapped to it.

Cat escapes his box
pursued by many show dogs-
The box leaves empty

That’s a haiku I think. There’s probably more rules for haiku than for dog shows and probably more different kinds of poems than different kinds of dogs and you shouldn’t call something a haiku or a peekepoo if it really isn’t. A haiku has to be like a Polaroid- two parts mix and a Kodak moment develops in your mind (sorry about the mixed-brand metaphor).

Well the cops arrested the little old wild white haired and bearded man (I guess he was wild) and charged him with all kinds of stuff. It turned out that he used a fake name and pretended to be a doctor and hung out around little kids and made up stories that he would tell them.

They charged him with cruelty to animals and I thought that wasn’t fair because he didn’t mean for the cat to get out but it turned out it was because he had that hat strapped on too tight and if you think about it how tight you would have to strap a hat on just to keep a cat from pulling the hat off himself let alone it still being strapped on after a bunch of dogs left nothing but his head so I guess they were right about that.

And they charged him for falsified identification and impersonating a doctor and having an invalid Poetic license (the cat’s name was actually Poetic not Socks and his license had expired the cat’s that is- even this guy’s cat had a fake name) and one cop said we should charge him with rhyme without reason and everybody laughed and they took him away.

They gave my pet Peeve and the mule special ribbons for saving the old man’s life and I’ll bet that’s the first time a mule ever won a ribbon at a dog show or maybe even any kind of ribbon at all because I don’t know if they have mule shows or if they do if they give out ribbons.

So I made up another poem.

Poor cat Poetic.
No body- no justice.
Then we laughed as we tossed
his hat-strapped head amongst us.

So with Peeve in my pocket
I drove home in my Taurus
and I wrote this all down…
with nary a glance
at my dog- eared Thesaurus.

That’s not a haiku or a tanka or a prose poem or a peekepoo…

It’s just doggerel.








------


"A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesman and philosophers and divines. With consistency a great soul has simply nothing to do."

- Ralph 'Where's Waldo' Emerson




"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like. And I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."
- Bilbo Baggins













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