Oh, Finn. I’m trying to write a poem
for you!
A slice of birthday writing
for you!
A love poem
for you!

A distinguished gentleman, your love more than genuine…

But the sun is out and for you…
A sniff-ari walk is the only thing you want to do
And so you annoy me, paw at my hands, don’t let me type
put the puppy dog eyes on strong. Oh, you!

I forgive you, of course
because just look at that face

Since you were a baby, without any gray, you knew how to get your way.
Your favorite treats, that list would be long, but carrots, popcorn, cucumbers would come in strong.

I’m just saying, if I didn’t have to wrestle my arm from you, I would write you a Birthday poem, Finn.

Roses are red
You are black, with gray
I can’t finish this poem
Because it’s a sunny day

Oh, Finn! I know You want to go out. Walks are fun, but don’t discount laying sun, and sniff-aris to sniff around a ton.

I can’t believe you’re nine! A distinguished, still spoiled canine.