What the Dickens....

I was having a quick snoozle

nice and comfy in my bed,

and although there was no nightgown

with a tassel for my head,

it was like a scene from Dickens,

but without the starving bit,

the fire was gently glowing

and the Christmas tree was lit.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 When I might have wandered into dream

because what did soon appear,

was a vision scene of Christmas past

ere I was living here.

Rolo was a youngster,

glossy fur and full of joys,

the juniors were…well..junior,

with stockings full of toys.

 

 

Rolo’s bed was by the fireside

and his things were on the floor,

he was constantly in mischief

‘Him Indoors’ in a furore.

Rolo was a lithe and supple fur,

his eyes were clear and bright,

the juniors they loved him,

‘Junior Her’ just squeezed him tight.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This lovely vision faded,

I was back in our own room,

the second bed was empty,

toys gone, a sense of gloom,

the juniors were both grown and left,

and in the garden framed,

a plaque, in memorial, ‘Never knowingly well-behaved!’

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I sighed and felt the ghost of loss,

but interrupting my malaise,

the joyous young apprentice

with her naughty, cheering ways.

We heard some people at the door,

and on opening there stood,

the juniors with presents

chocolates, wine and Christmas pud.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We cannot see the future

and yesterday is past,

the present is a fickle thing,

but Posse friendships last.

Whenever you are feeling down

you know just what to do,

get your paws on Twitter,

your Pals will see you through.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So whatever is your Christmas now,

the Posse’s on your phone,

so share your noms and wag your tail,

you are never on your own!

 

 Happy Christmas to all the furs and hupeeps of the BTPosse. You make the world a better place.