Bandit was a good dog.
He was a morning patroller,
As many dogs are-
Notice them as you drive to work.
One early summer morning,
Bandit was tracking the scent of a cat
When suddenly a shadow scurried past his side,
The game was afoot!
Bandit gave chase, albeit he was no longer a pup.
He was deep in the woods near a wet weather spring.
The rustling braches ahead of him went uphill,
He knew where he was now, climbing the Big Hill.
The grey-streaked white/tan dog with the blue left eye
Now earnestly gives chase to the unknown racer on the Big
Hill.
Bandit feels more alive now than when he lays at his food
bowl-
He feigns interest when his Master offers evening platitudes.
Bandit tops the Big Hill and sees his opponent, a cat, a
huge cat.
Bigger than any cat on a Meow Mix bag, a very LARGE cat.
“My adventure must now end, be it good, or be it bad,”
thought Bandit.
He knew his match was standing before him, fatigued yet
defiant.
Bandit knew no fear, and raised a practical paw and said-
“Be gone from this Big Hill and my domain, else I must kill
you.”
The giant cat bared his fangs yet remained, staring
curiously and said,
“I go this time challenger, the next time I may NOT!”
Both turn and amble down their opposite hill sides,
Bandit returns home to lie under his favorite bush.
When supper time comes, Bandit eats with a flourish.
He acknowledges his Master with a furtive glance, then a
smile.
Bandit was a good dog.
