The Sea Dog | Kate Andrews

The sea is a little puppy.

I run towards it

it runs towards me

like we are playing a game of tag.

The sea dog barks

“ruff ruff,”

it says.

It’s crashing

it is very frisky.

I run up to it

and jump on its back.

When I lie down

it runs up and pounces on me.

It carries me on its back.

It’s as fast as a cheetah, that dog.

The dog runs around and around.

“Aoooooooo,” it howls at night

like a wolf.

The dog eats its dog food

upon the shore.

Day after day it gnaws

like a cow eating grass happily.

It chews morosely.

I wake up and run to see my dog.

When I walk up to it

it sprays me with spit and slobber.

“Ew,” I say.

I wash off with the dog surrounding me,

I spray it back

we have a water fight

I get soaked but I don’t care.

I run around and around.

The dog stamps on my feet softly.

“Let’s play!”

We play the back and forwards game.

Then I go home.

In the night I hear

“Auuuauuuauuu!”