Rolo - my life in poetry

Rolo was one of the 8-week old puppies that came into the Charity in 2008 - this is his story after he was adopted.

                          The first 18 months

A barrel load of monkeys

Has come to live at home

He's into this and into that

And can't be left alone


He's got the most appealing look

With eyes of hazel brown

A jet black saddle back he sports

As soft as eiderdown


It's Rolo come and Rolo sit

And Rolo please get down

Go chew the toys we've bought for you

Please leave my dressing gown


We must be mad; it's coming back

This puppy training lark

Destroying rugs and legs of chairs

Quick trips out in the dark


Then off to 'proper' classes

To socialise and train

And home to practice what we've learnt

Hierarchy to maintain


We watch as Poppy (now aged ten)

Shows Rolo what to do

First up the stairs, then down again

Let's see what you can do

We weren't too sure how they'd get on

But as the days went by

They reached an understanding

Where each of them would lie

That's not to say life's easy

When Rolo's full of fun

And Poppy, our poor OAP

Is well and truly done

But like all puppies, down he flops

His energy is spent

Then silently he passes wind

He gets quite flatulent!

                                 Not long after....!

We've got to trust him sometime

My husband said to me

But last time he had his freedom

It looked like World War Three

We'd only gone an hour

He didn't need his crate

That time it was bananas

And apples that he ate

At eighteen months he'd surely know

That we'd return quite soon

So knowing this he set to work

When we had left the room


He's heard the car go out the gate

His brain flew into gear

I've not got long to wreck the joint

Before they re-appear


Her diary was the first to go

And then a brush to clean

And what about those table mats

So new and all pristine

Oh no, I hear them coming back

Have I got time to munch

The apple in the wooden bowl

I'd like to have for lunch?

I stop as they come through the door

Perhaps they just won't see

Maybe I'll get away with it

And they won't think it's me

OK, I'm asking far too much

I'm put out in the rain*

And next time I'll be in my crate

So I can't chew again

                  * Rolo was put out in the rain so that they                        could clear up - apparently he thought                            clearing up was all part of the fun!

We try to stop him eating pears

And apples in the field

But off he runs and grits his teeth

Until we make him yield

It's hard work at the moment

But we know he'll make the grade

For experience has taught us

That our patience is repaid

                      Rolo's Street Cred

I used to be a lady-dog

With such a pretty face

I looked more like a girl than boy

Persona full of grace

But now I have a war wound

An ear that's torn to shreds

At last this German Shepherd

Can say he's got Street Cred

I didn't get it fighting

I caught it on a thorn

But I'm not telling anyone

I hope my looks will warn

'Cause people think us Shepherds

Are here to guard their land

And if approached will growl and bark

Then bite the proffered hand

But I'm a gentle little lad

And soft as soft can be

But I'll pretend to be a wolf

To keep credulity