“
My doggy ate my homework.
He chewed it up,” I said.
But when I offered my excuse
My teacher shook her head.
I saw this wasn’t going well.
I didn’t want to fail.
Before she had a chance to talk,
I added to the tale:
“Before he ate, he took my work
And tossed it in a pot.
He simmered it with succotash
Till it was piping hot.
“He scrambled up my science notes
With eggs and bacon strips,
Along with sautéed spelling words
And baked potato chips.
“He then took my arithmetic
And had it gently fried.
He broiled both my book reports
With pickles on the side.
“He wore a doggy apron
As he cooked a notebook stew.
He barked when I objected.
There was nothing I could do.”
“Did he wear a doggy chef hat?”
She asked me with a scowl.
“He did,” I said. “And taking it
Would only make him growl.”
My teacher frowned, but then I said
As quickly as I could,
“He covered it with ketchup,
And he said it tasted good.”
“A talking dog who likes to cook?”
My teacher had a fit.
She sent me to the office,
And that is where I sit.
I guess I made a big mistake
In telling her all that.
’Cause I don’t have a doggy.
It was eaten by my cat.
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