Just a little bit of poetic license...
The Were-Pug
With sharp white teeth and sharper claws
The pug dog goes a sniffin’.
He doesn’t care for on-leash laws,
It’s fetid scent he’s whiffin’.
Sly hidden ’neath his brushy fur
A secret life is waitin’.
He doesn’t bark, nor play demure,
A target he's a-ratin’.
He feels the change within his skin;
His mouth it is a-droolin’.
As foamy flecks drip off his chin
He howls like he's not foolin’.
Attack! He rushes toward his prey.
It skitters away, reelin’.
But it will never get away,
Mortality it’s feelin’.
No vicious beast could be more fierce,
No animal more fright’nin’.
Those high-priced shoes are in for it—
This dog’s as fast as light’nin’.
Once heels are scarred and uppers chewed
The Manolos are hist’ry.
The were-pug traipses off, renewed,
To solve another myst’ry.
A Cat In Wax Paper
I dreamt of a cat in wax paper,
Eating oysters as blue as the day.
I wanted to join in her caper,
But she barked and then moon-walked away.
So next came a clown with a lasso,
Quite complete with a serious grin.
He told me of times in El Paso,
While he put a chapeau on his chin.
A neighbor with parrots 'pon shoulders,
Went a-sauntering off down the block.
She jumped really high over boulders,
As they rolled down a street white as chalk.
And when I awoke it was morning,
O! My head ached as though stuffed with socks.
But the day was brightly aborning,
So I honked and got out of the box.