Animal Prose Poem

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Dad’s dog Max

Mad Max the Scarlet Fox, is not a fox but a Rough Spanish Collie dog. But, when he’s running towards you bounding out of the bushes you can be forgiven for thinking you were under attack by a beast of the forest.

Mad Max can dance and roll over for a tummy rub. Mad Max loves the ball throw it as much as you like. Mad Max will walk to heel, Mad Max will carry his own lead and fetch it if you tell him to.

Mad Max waits for you to say “yes, you can have that” before he eats his treat. Mad Max is nice to children and always loves to play. Mad Max will fetch a stick from out the undergrowth, maybe even half a log and expect you to throw it; say another dog comes along he won’t mind he’ll leave that stick and be by your side.

The Scarlet Fox goes dashing through the bog. The Scarlet Fox will swim in streams, ponds and canals. The Scarlet Fox chases pigeons and catches magpies with savage stealth. The Scarlet Fox he guards the yard against grey squirrel invaders and evil Scarface cats. The Scarlet Fox does not go back on the lead unless it pleases him. The Scarlet Fox will drink pond water and snack on frogs he cares not for your disgust. The Scarlet Fox having seen me attacked by a large dog once, now defends me with teeth and bark and snarling rage.

I love my father’s faithful dog and I will not allow him to be taken under the ruse that he cannot be cared for by the Man. The Man who calls him, with a grand bellow

“Maximus Reddishius, mighty Caesar of 58 Chestnut Grove. Let us venture forth.”

To which the dog bows low and then prances behind the Man like a white Arabia mare.

By S.Bryant

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Author: BlueFalcon1983

YA Writer and illustrator

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