Ode to Thor, My Dog

You bound through the house like a furry tornado,
With more speed than a caffeinated tomato.
You’ve chewed up my slippers, the couch, and the broom—
Yet somehow you still rule every room.

When I call you to come, you turn tail and run,
Like it’s all just a game—a race you’ve won.
Then you stop, side-eye, with a look that says,
“Catch me if you can, on these four legs!”

Oh, food is your weakness, you sneaky hound,
One whiff of my dinner, and you’re sniffing around.
You wait till I blink, then strike like a flash—
Stealing toast, grabbing crumbs, and scarfing the stash.

In mud, you’re a pro, in dirt, a delight,
By day, you dig holes, and howl at night.
Bath time’s a battle, I always lose—
I wear the soap, and you’re back to the blues.

Yet somehow, my rascal, with fur all askew,
I wouldn’t trade a whisker or muddy paw of you.
For every tail wag and each silly chase,
You fill up my heart and brighten my space.