Once there was a little pug,
She snapped and snarled at every thug.
She had a brain, the thugs had none,
For they were crass and crude and dumb.
But when they gathered with their clubs,
She ran away, that little pug.
She ducked for cover, panting hard
And peered out with a pounding heart.
And when her master wasn’t near,
She shook and trembled with her fear.
Her master came and chased away
The stupid thugs. And every day,
She felt okay, if he was there.
And when he wasn’t, she was scared.
One day the thugs were growing strong.
She had been good, she’d done no wrong;
Her master kept the thugs at bay
With one low growl, they ran away.
But that was when the phone call came.
He had to go. No one to blame.
The little pug, she shook and cried.
She said she wouldn’t stay alive.
The thugs were there, at her front door.
She couldn’t hold them anymore.
She knew that she would be alone.
She got some money for the phone.
She banged her head into the wall.
Her master said, “Well, you can call.”
She shook and cried into the chair …
It didn’t get her anywhere.
She prayed to god it was a dream.
But God was busy, so it seemed.
And that was when, with breaking glass,
Something, somewhere, came to pass.
Someone, somehow, cast a spell.
Against the laughing mites of hell.
And through the night time, something changed,
As if the stars had re-arranged.
And as she slept, we don’t know how,
Her little pout became a growl.
And when she woke she shook a bit …
Okay … she sobbed and had a fit.
But only when she was alone,
Hidden deep within her home.
But when she stepped out of her door,
She wasn’t crying anymore.
She looked the thugs straight in the eye.
She said, “So fight me. Please just try.”
I have had enough of it.
I care no more, oh not one bit.”
She breathed in deep to swell her ribs.
She put her hands onto her hips.
She stood on tip-toe when she spoke,
To not look up on taller folk.
She told the thugs to go to hell.
She told them she was doing well.
She grabbed her kids, said “lets go play.
Let’s fight these creeps some other day.”
Now many stories could be told,
Of how that puppy grew so bold,
Some stories haven’t happened yet
The war’s not over, don’t forget.
Our pug has yet to grow full-strong …
But … wait a minute, that was wrong.
The little pug has no more time
To waste her lifetime with this slime.
Our pug is pretty, cute and smart.
She won a merit for her art.
She did what no one else has done;
Went round the world when she was young.
She crossed alone the stony steppes,
When she was sick and nearly dead.
She can write and learn, and knows
She makes things better where she goes.
Her education rivals all.
These pugs are stupid, new, and small.
They bat their eyes with pimpled cheeks.
They spread their lies because they’re week.
Our pug has yet one crime alone.
She turned her real self into stone.
For she is not a pug at all.
She is a wolf who acts so small.
Now there’s our story, that was how
The yipping yap became a growl.
The little pug has far to go.
But now she sees and now she knows.
While witches laughed upon their thrones,
The Lion breathed upon the stone.
The story hasn’t ended here.
The ending isn’t even near.
This is the beginning now.
It will be turned around some how.
And many battles will be fought
But one day it will be forgot.
One day the wolf will calmly lie,
And glare at anyone who tries.
And one low growl will make them run.
And that will be a lot of fun.
But this is how it all began.
The pug who always ran and ran.
She turned around and smiled and said,
“I am myself, and don’t forget.
Now go away and let me be.
Because I want to have some tea.
And – oh, yeah, one thing, by the way,
Don’t come again until I say …”
Now that’s my story, that was how,
The little yelp became a growl.
The world was black, but on that day,
Our pug became a beast of prey.
Written by Anna Vera Williams
February 9, 2008
Dedicated to All Pugs