Between the dark and the daylight
When day's heat is beginning to lower,
Comes a pause in the day's occupation
Which is known as the Dog Park Hour.
They come from all over Davis,
To the Dog Park they do fare :
Grave Bouvies, and laughing Basenjis,
Retrievers with Golden hair.
With tails gaily flagged and wagging,
With noses ploughing the ground,
Pulling the leash and gagging,
They gather from miles around.
Terriers, Hounds, and Spaniels,
Sled-dogs with ice-blue eyes,
A myriad of Mystery Mixed Breeds
Of every shapes and size.
They play bow to one another,
Then leap and twirl and spin,
Greeting like sister and brother,
Then race with no prizes to win.
Some chase the fleeing Frisbee,
High in the air they leap;
Others gallop in circles,
Gath'ring invisible sheep.
Do you think ,O you thievish Jack Russells,
Because you have captured the ball,
That the moustached and grey-bearded Bouvie
Shall not prove a match for you all ?
Now it's time to recall each Rover,
And, reluctantly, homeward go :
Home to our supper and bedtime,
But we'll be back in a day or so !