CHICO...

MY BRUMMIE DOG: CHICO…

Chico

The puppy was feeblest

Of the wriggling litter;

Stepped upon,

Trodden on,

Used for leverage.

Not given away because he was so weak,

The chances for a healthy life seemed bleak.

The sibling was taken

By an eager sister;

Sinister eyed,

Wild side,

Used to run free.

Rarely brushed or washed, simply reeked,

His cowering, dull countenance from humans sneaked.

The weakling was kept

With its irritable parent;

Quickly spayed,

Rarely strayed,

Used to snarl.

Would bite into a broom-head and I’d swing her round,

Like a miniature hippo’, her weight left the ground…

The bitch was Rioch,

Named after Bruce of the Villa;

Threatening stare,

Menacing glare,

Used to snap.

Skulked when admonished for cadging or barking,

One’s fingers at risk when riling or larking.

The son was Chico,

Named after Hamilton of the Villa;

Dozy attitude,

Total ineptitude,

Used to escape.

Gluttonous, he scavenged anything to eat

And was partial to chasing cyclists along the street.

The behaviour was inconsistent,

Escaped with feral brother;

Running insane,

Extraordinarily inane,

Used to freedom.

Struck by a car, he was lucky he survived:

Bandaged, healed, recovered, thrived.

The wanderlust was insatiable,

Disappeared for a while;

Incorrigible hound,

Eventually found:

Used to hover,

Watch and wait for a renewed flight,

Absconded regularly, neighbours no doubt contrite.

The dog was seemingly

Untrained, stupid;

Barely restrained,

Rarely reined,

Used to enjoy

Urinating on muddied goalkeepers prone

And scraping his buttocks along dirt and stone.

The frustration was highlighted

One day in a park;

Temptation found,

Afghan hound,

Used to obedience…

But Chico attempted a coupling, a metre too low,

Gripped hound’s hind legs, just wouldn’t let go…

The Afghan was unimpressed,

Wore a look of superior disdain;

Chico fornicated,

Onlookers appreciated,

Used to cartoons…

Embarrassment ensued as Chico held on for dear life,

The Afghan stationary, sedate through the strife… 

The relocation was difficult,

Alone much of the time;

Defecated, urinated,

Scratched, desecrated.

Used to destroy

Wallpaper, floor coverings, anything within reach:

Too late, obedience, a grown dog to teach.

The precedent was set,

Walks twice a day;

Commands learned,

Incentives earned,

Used to run

Free in open Tamworth spaces,

Sprinting with me, like in childhood races.

The return was inevitable,

To Birmingham and home;

Less distress,

Negligible mess:

Used to gallop

On undulating common land…

Chico behaved better, almost cap in hand.

The death was excruciating,

Heart attacks brought an end;

Lay ill, 

Virtually still:

Used to vibrancy…

 I was called from work to assist my pet:

Emergency treatment was needed from a vet’.

The end was tragic,

My hand stroked his head;

Heart chastened,

Injection hastened…

Used to crazy

Behaviour, madness, disorder, strife,

Now gone from Chico, the essence, the life.

The fur was warm

Beneath my hand;

Breathing ceased, 

Torment eased:

Used to lick

Cuts on my legs, between my toes: the best…

Black coat, brown eyes, white flash on his chest.

The memorial was plain,

Chico’s remarkable wet ears:

 Every year,

Unkempt fur

Used to curl

Into ringlets, turning from black to ebony.

Yet my love for that vagrant was the ultimate irony…

Pete Ray

TAMWORTH...

HODGE HILL...

LAID MY FIRST LAWN IN TAMWORTH...

HODGE HILL...

CHICO...

HODGE HILL...

A YOUNGER CHICO LYING NEXT TO HIS MUM, RIOCH...