Roscoe
Roscoe hates the golf carts most of all. They’re sneaky. He doesn’t hear them until they hum past the house, and then it’s too late to sound the alarm.
Now those rattling, clattering diesels, he hears them soon as they turn onto his street, so he has three blocks’ worth of barking before they get to his house. Same for the motorcycles. He’d sink a tooth in a motorcycle for sure, but he’s tethered in the yard.
Cat-like, stinking golf carts. One of these days he’s gonna kill one, and teach ’em all. ‘Cause Roscoe’s on guard.
One Response to “Roscoe”
April 14th, 2006 at 12:09 pm
Cute! I need a Roscoe to come and kill our pesky dump trucks that race up and down our street.
lori
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