I was reminded of this poem I wrote in response to a challenge to write something in a rhyming style.
This picture is not Old Pete, but it looks enough like him--if you add a good twenty pounds:
Ode to Pete
Old Pete, he was a good old hound.
A better friend could not be found.
He never barked; he didn’t growl,
But for a biscuit, he would howl.
He liked to lie upon his bed.
His only trick was playing dead.
He had no truck with chasing sticks.
He wanted dinner right at six.
To fetch a ball, he did not choose.
He suffered cats who came in twos.
If you should chance to stop and linger,
And you were just the kind of singer
Who had the heart to sing the blues,
Then Pete would join with his A-roos.
Pete was named for a Civil War general, James Longstreet. I am not sure why other than the fact that Mike was a keen student of history.
This is not something I would typically write but the challenge was made and I had to give it a try. The inspiration came as I was walking through the Farmer's Market and there was a man walking a blood hound nearby. The hound started baying in that unique hound way and I was immediately brought to thoughts of Old Pete and a blues band singer named Dana who used to sometimes come by for a few beers and a duet.