Wayne Orr

Eight tiny tornadoes with wiggling tails,
Tumbling and bumbling down garden trails,
Fuzzy little furballs with button-bright eyes,
Chasing their shadows to everyone’s surprise!

One little rascal steals Mom’s favorite shoe,
Another gets tangled in yarn, oh boo-hoo!
Three are playing tug-of-war with a sock,
While two more are barking at the tick-tock clock.

Puppy number six thinks his tail is a toy,
Spinning in circles with absolute joy,
Seven discovers the joy of the hose,
Getting soaked from his tail to his nose!

The littlest one tries to howl like the big dogs,
But sounds more like squeaky door or croaking frogs,
They stumble on ears that are three times too big,
And wiggle their bottoms in a happy jig.

Naptime arrives like a magical spell,
In one cozy puppy pile they all dwell,
Eight sleepy angels with milk on their chins,
Tomorrow’s adventure is where fun begins!

With dreams full of tennis balls, treats, and play,
These bundles of sunshine brighten each day,
Pure puppy magic in furry disguise,
Love multiplied by eight—what a wonderful prize!