My parents have come and gone. Teachers have come and gone. Kids have come and gone. But Bobo’s been here with me the whole time. She’s run through the woods with me and slept on the floor of my room. She’s a tear licker, a heel nipper, a pillow, and a friend.
This is Not a Werewolf Story
Sandra Evans
I don’t have any pets
so I can’t write about one
and especially
I can’t write
a POEM
about one.
Love That Dog
Sharon Creech
Our geriatric dachshund, Flub, jumps onto my lap while I’m working. This is yet another downside to being in a wheelchair—I’m like an elevated dog bed.
Mascot
Antony John
Grover waddles into the room, snuffling my backpack. He sounds more like a pig than a dog.
Takedown
Laura Shovan
As Armand glared at the children, a shaggy dog that should have been white came bounding across the quay. It protectively jumped between the tramp and the children, barking fiercely at Armand. The hobo quickly maneuvered his buggy between himself and the dog.
The Family Under the Bridge
Natalie Savage Carlson
I spooned up the stew and lighted the oil lamp and we ate with the dogs crowding under the table, hoping for spills and handouts.
Sarah, Plain and Tall
Patricia MacLachlan
Rose had her own copy of Charlotte’s Web—Gram had seen to that—but it sat unread on her bookshelf at home. It was the library copy she loved. Its corners were worn to a comfortable gray.
Giant Pumpkin Suite
Melanie Heuiser Hill
