Harry hardly ever had a moment to himself.
‘Harry! Fix that squeaky door. Put up that kitchen shelf!’
Harry had selective hearing. Heard, but didn’t hark,
When his ever so beloved needed him to bark.
‘Harry, have you filled the scuttle? Fire is getting low!’
Harry sipped his whiskey and enjoyed the afterglow.
‘Harry! Have you swept the chimney? What is all that smoke?’
Harry upped the radio and giggled at a joke.
‘Harry! Where’s my cup of coffee? Has the paper come?
Harry sipped another whiskey. Now he felt quite numb.
Suddenly the house was silent. Peace had come to stay.
‘Cos they carted off his missus to the home today.
©Ruth Twyman Lockyer October 2013