There’s a thousand years of history and a hundred more at least.
All gathered in the stories about taming this wild beast.
And back behind its silly grin and spit that’s oozing out.
Is the ghost of every parent that is trying not to shout.
Every wrap in its small blanket’s been swaddled a million times.
And the mystery of this creature still puzzles ancient minds.
It’s evolution hasn’t changed the way this critter cries.
I’ve lassoed in its spirit now prepare for the reprise
Oh, the milk vein is a bulgin’ every time I hear it yelp
It’s mighty quiet, in this here home there’s no one here to help.
Mommy is the only one who makes the daily grub.
It cries and cries both day and night It’s hard to feel the love.
Star light in the dark of night like a shiny horse’s spur.
Is when this animal’s bedside corral soon begins to stir.
I feel so tuckered out from the endless day of work
But this is the time when the possum’s awake to take its nightly slurp
Jiggle, Jiggle, pat, and burp, jiggle, pat, then burb
Tickle, Tickle, kiss, and squeeze, slobber, poopy, slurp.
But just when I thought I’ve had enough and I’m ready to give in
This puppy cuddles up to me and gives me quite a grin
I found this old picture of my Grandpa. I thought it was fitting for this poem.