The Dog I Don't Have

Ranger Roger has not gone to bed.

He is sitting at a desk with the light on.

He has a pencil, and paper. And an eraser. 

But nothing to rub out.

Can we help? asks Squattu.

Yeah, I just can't get started, says Ranger Roger. 

That's because you don't have a dog, says Terence.

Makes it harder, agrees Ranger Roger.

Write about not having a dog, says Squattu. They say you should write what you know.

Is a poem about not having a dog the same as a poem about a dog? asks Ranger Roger.

Don't overthink it, says Squattu. 

Okay, says Ranger Roger. I'll start with the title: I Don't Have A Dog.

That's good, says Terence. Now what?

Maybe say why, says Squattu.

I'm a Ranger, says Ranger Roger. We're not allowed them. Not at work anyway. They stress native animals.

It's already a poem, says Squattu.

No it isn't, says Terence. It's a boring old answer.

Let me think, says Ranger Roger. How can I make it rhyme?

Dog and bog, says Terence.

Where would the bog come in? asks Ranger Roger.

At the end, stupid, says Terence. I don't have a dog / it fell into a bog

You know Arthur, says Ranger Roger. What would he think of that?

He would laugh and laugh, says Terence.

That's not what I'm aiming for, says Ranger Roger.

He writes something. And then rubs it out.

Turn the light out, says Squattu. Something might come.

I am kind of tired, says Ranger Roger.

He turns out the light and gets into bed.

He soon falls asleep. 

What are we meant to do? whispers Terence.

Can you write? asks Squattu. We could put down some ideas.

Of course I can, says Terence. If it's letters I know.

Which are? says Squattu. 

T and P says Terence. And B.

No vowels. That makes it hard.

But in the end it doesn't matter.

Ranger Roger dreams up his own poem.

The dog I don't have waits for me to come home/  he wags his tail thump thump sniff/ I smell of possums and eggs/ who's a good boy then/ not me. The dog I don't have waits for his dinner looking expectant/ what's for dinner sniff dry biscuits again/ who's a good boy then/ not me.

Not bad.

Let's hope he remembers it in the morning.