Therapy Bits

My border collie Charlie’s no sheep-herding champ—
He’s curled on the couch like a fluffy old lamp.
With fur like a storm cloud and eyes full of sass,
He rules from his cushion, not chasing the grass.

A dog bred for duty, for speed and precision,
But Charlie’s made lounging a lifelong decision.
"Go fetch?" I might ask. He’ll just give me a glance—
Like, “Why run when I nailed the art of the stance?”

He snores like a tractor, legs twitch in his sleep,
Perhaps herding dream-sheep that jump as they leap.
But wake him? Don’t try it. He’ll grunt, stretch, and pout,
Then spin once or twice and collapse in a sprawl-out.

The couch is his kingdom, his throne, and his bed,
He drools on the cushions, the throw pillows dread.
He once chased a squirrel—well, once that I know—
Then slept for a week like a hungover Joe.

So here’s to Sir Charlie, the canine of clout,
The master of napping, the king of the couch.
He’s lazy, he’s lovely, he’s smarter than most—
And guarding that sofa? He takes it quite close.

🐾

Couch – Word of the Day Challenge