Dog Years
My dog is sixteen in dog years
which explains her doggy tantrums,
the way she steals biscuits,
the way she escapes through open gates,
has her own friends who she barks to
late into the night. I wonder
if she should be studying harder,
making plans for the future.
She did once eat my maths book
so perhaps she’s made a start.
Mum says dogs are incapable of thought,
that she has no idea it’s Wednesday
when Mum works from home
but she comes in anyway with her lead
as if to say It’s the weekend!
which explains her doggy tantrums,
the way she steals biscuits,
the way she escapes through open gates,
has her own friends who she barks to
late into the night. I wonder
if she should be studying harder,
making plans for the future.
She did once eat my maths book
so perhaps she’s made a start.
Mum says dogs are incapable of thought,
that she has no idea it’s Wednesday
when Mum works from home
but she comes in anyway with her lead
as if to say It’s the weekend!
This poem is copyright (©) Carole Bromley 2025
About the Writer
Carole Bromley
Carole has won the Caterpillar Prize and had poems in Tyger, Tyger, The Toy, Paper Lanterns, Paperbound, Little Thoughts Press and Northern Gravy as well as in her collection, Blast Off! and anthologies from MacMillan, Nosy Crow and Emma Press. She does readings and workshops at festivals and in schools and in 2025 she is tutoring courses on Writing Poems for Children for the Writing School Online.
