The Hunter

Several of us in The Poetry Pub are doing an annual November Poem a Day challenge. Friday’s prompt was “pet,” and since fellow poet Amelia Friedline currently owns a Scottish Terrier and my family had one when I was growing up, I challenged her to write about her Scottie. You can read hers here. Mine is below.

The Hunter

Originally written 11/8/19. #124.

When we made popcorn, our Scottie went mad.
She bounced and barked as every kernel popped
into a fluffy, tasty treat. Then Dad
dumped it into a tin. Whatever dropped
was fair game for the dog, who devoured
it within seconds. Then she’d beg for more,
or hunt for crumbs. With her long nose she scoured
cracks under cupboards, every inch of floor
that had once seen a speck of salt. Still not
content with what she found, she’d leap upon
the couch where we were sitting—where, she thought,
she’d get more treats. But Dad would say “all gone,”
and she would stop, and then she would resume
All dignity a Scottie can assume.

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