Back to black

My sofa is a creamy shade, well, technically ‘off white’…

My dog is of a darker hue, with fur as black as night.

The sofa is a comfy place, the dog is installed there…

So every day the vac’ comes out to clean up all the hair.

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I tried to put a cover on, a blanket that was mine,

It too is black as night, you see, and hides the dog hair fine.

But no, she only digs it up and shakes it with her teeth,

Then kicks the sofa cushions off and burrows underneath.

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And now the warmer days have come so in the balmy air

As spring moult has begun there are now clouds of midnight hair.

The carpet should be brown, but sports a film of silky black

That’s sending me off scurrying to get the ruddy vac’.

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I hoover, dust and polish, just to get rid of the stuff,

The go and flick the kettle on, when I have done enough.

I potter in the kitchen, make a coffee and come back

To find she’s had a roll and shake… the room is back to black.

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The stuff gets everywhere you know, it’s in my bath and clothes,

And when she comes to cuddle up, the fluff gets up my nose.

It creeps in every cranny, but the thing I hate the most

Is when it comes to breakfast and I get dog hair on toast.

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But then again the moulting is a meagre price to pay

For company and cuddles and her laughter every day.

Considering the many years I hope we’ll be together,

Perhaps the  sofa ought to be replaced with nice black leather.

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