Lucy knows there is a monster in the oven, because she sees it, every time she passes that black glass door.
Actually, there are far too many monsters in Lucy's world. There's the one in the basement; the one at the corner of the neighbor's deck; the one under the manhole cover in the courtyard; and so on.
Lucy has to be brave every day -- and she is.
Show Lucy how you can turn on the oven and char that monster to a crisp! Just don't try it on the one under the neighbor's deck. Torching the neighbors is rarely a good idea.
Posted by: Julie Carter | 23 May 2006 at 09:03 PM
what can i say, this is absolutly adorable. the picture/comic preface enhances the short poem, too. i can picture lucy barking all the monsters into submission every time she passes them.
Posted by: katy | 24 May 2006 at 11:17 AM
funny!
Posted by: salty | 24 May 2006 at 01:17 PM
Poem? Is there a poem in there somewhere?
Usually I know when I write a poem.
But not always.
Sadly, Lucy does not bark at these monsters. She hurries past them.
Posted by: SB | 24 May 2006 at 02:24 PM
Crackers, the big-butted blonde and quite near-sighted cat in this household, has a different strategy for monsters -- since she doesn't bark. She does what cats do -- crouch down and watch. But she's never quite sure what she sees until she smells it and she smells it best if she puts her nose on it, which monsters don't let a cat do. So where the trapdoor to the crawlspace is open -- a monster-hole if there ever was one -- she creeps up slowly and waves her nose: spiders, check; dirt, check; pipes, check; wiring, check -- wait! What was that? Monster blood? Monster body-odor? Monster bad-breath?
Normally Crackers is a fairly phlegmatic cat, though this morning she brought me a relatively unmauled vole for my breakfast. I thanked her but decided on raspberries and Oatie O's instead. She was a little miffed.
Now Squibbie, when she's not on patrol for practical stuff like cats and dogs, wastes little time thinking about monsters. If there were one, she'd just go down in the crawl space and drag it out by the neck.
Prairie Mary
Posted by: Mary Scriver | 24 May 2006 at 07:30 PM
Maybe not a poem but surely this post is sheer poetry for dog lovers with pooches who have their own set of monsters to deal with.
Posted by: Daisy | 08 June 2006 at 06:52 AM