Leave a comment if you can spot any of the 5 rules this poem follows to create its structure. Bonus points if you can tell me the line where I broke the rules. Double bonus if you tell me why I broke those rules in that line.
There was once a little dog named Toby. He had curly white fur oh so fluffy. Bichon with a big personality. Should I say, a big doganality Because, though he thought he was a people He was not. A very odd dog was he. Toby was a very little puppy With doganality to fill a house. Maybe it was some little dog syndrome But there was definitely something more. His quirks even had quirks and were quirky. He was more than an OCD doggy. To say the least, Toby was unfriendly. He was deeply afraid of new people. He nipped at children if they would dare try To give him a treat when he felt lonely. Plus, don’t come near with your booted footy. He hates boots and will attack you quickly. That’s just some small things for outsiders too. Living with him, there are more rules for you. Don’t put your feet on the coffee table Clad in socks, or he will growl, bark and bite. Should you sit on couch or armchair alone, Between the chair arm and your leg, that space Toby owns like a monarch’s precious throne. None shall trespass hence upon this decree. Further, when he’s at queen mother’s knee Thou shalt not touch her while he presides there For his judgment will be swift as a snake. So Dad (not a king) should stay far away. Then there’s food. In a bowl it must not be. Dog food must be on a small rimless plate So each pellet may be reached easily To lay out on the floor in a nice line. Before eating a dog must organize Then one may eat each piece one at a time. Don’t put water in a bowl. That’s sloppy. For goodness’ sake all bowls are a no go. Put that wet mess in a hamster bottle To lick till his heart’s content completely, Lapping one drip of water at a time So his little beard doesn’t get drippy. When you can’t find him he is in a shoe, Meaning his head is stuffed down so deeply Within one of dad’s old boots usually (Ironic, I know, because he hates boots) Nestled in the dark away from your eye So you have to listen for his small snore. That’s a few things that stand out presently. Still, with all the quirks there was something else, Something that would make him truly irate. Not like peanut butter stuck on his tongue Causing him to lick the air frantically. No, that was bliss for the odd dog Toby. What drove him absolutely most crazy Was that thing on his rear end wispy white, So ever present yet soft and curly. The thing would simply not leave him alone. Time to himself was his chief desire. Some reprieve from being touched constantly. But it seemed attached--this critter thingy-- Rudely caressing his back and booty Like a harasser with touch unwelcome. He could bark and growl but it would not leave. “Stop touching me!,” he would think constantly He thought it was worse, yes much, much, much worse Than your older sibling annoyingly Holding their finger an inch from your face Jeering and saying, “I’m not touching you,” Because this critter was touching Toby With a touch so light it was about like Someone made a reverse crash test dummy To see how light a tough he could notice. He could feel it and it was terrible. Torturous, nonsensical parasite Taunting him throughout the night and the day Like it was saying, “now can you feel me?” But it didn’t say anything of course. Never even making the smallest noise There it was and he was always aware. He just wanted it to leave him alone. He would turn around to chase it away But that would lead to an endless circle-- Chase, snap, yelp, yip, sit, wait, repeatedly . . . Then, one day when his family was gone He determined that this would end today. No one saw the deed so no one knows quite How Toby got that critter finally. But here begins the end of Toby’s tale. To a red mess his family came home-- Dangling appendage with white fur bloody. Whimpering on the floor was poor Toby. No longer did the critter curl wispy Hanging limp by a thin strand of skinny That would soon be Toby’s tail now stumpy Since the vet thought it best to amputate. Toby caught his tail and it was ugly. The vet said Toby had Schizophrenia, But who is to say that was really the cause. Toby seemed content without that menace, That critter of a tail with its own way, Though he had to wear a soft cone of shame So large he would trip and fall on his face. But I guess that was just the price to pay When something broke the law of Toby’s rule. Those pesky legs were the next thing to go. He began to gnaw when off came the cone Because nothing would stand in Toby’s way.