On an evening dark and queasy
I crawl upon my doggy kneesies
beyond a vast expanse of tile
to the tiny oasis of soft beige pile.
It’s there upon my beloved carpet
my stomach heaves and then I barf it
across six feet of woolen lawn;
Now relieved, I relax and yawn.
When suddenly my humans begin to shriek
“Get off the rug, you [bleepidty bleep!]”
They descend with sprays and thirsty towels;
Their distress causes loosening of my bowels.
Now I’m up in the air and out the door
To the doghouse; but why, I’m not really sure.