A puppy by the name of
Pete
Was small and warm and rather sweet A smile he brought to every face Who met him and his gentle grace. He wagged his tail non-stop each day And never tired of games to play He never begged and never growled And in the night-time never howled. In fact Pete seemed the perfect pet Until one day, a cat he met, And not quite knowing what to do, He chased it for an hour or two. And now each time he sees a cat, He stands, when just before he sat, No longer quiet, calm and cute, He hurries off in hot pursuit. |
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The End
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Sunday, February 19, 2012
Puppy Pete
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