Category Archives: Floyd the Dog


Floyd 001.jpg

I felt it was about time I posted another poem about Floyd the Dog! Floyd, my dog, is now five years old! He becomes a bit calmer, and a bit more sensible, every day. The thing is, that’s not saying much for him. Floyd remains a complete lunatic of a dog, to my utter joy.

One of the lessons Floyd has learnt the hard way is that not every animal is his friend. He has been chased off by cats, dogs, and birds galore. However, he never lets this affect his love of life and his determination to befriend or eat everything he comes across on the common has only grown.


Floyd’s tongue hung down like wallpaper
And quivered in the heat
He rattled like a tambourine
With one too many feet
A flock of pigeons saw him
And departed as a fleet
Floyd turned aside and tumble on
He crossed a bridge and thereupon
He hurried to harass a swan
That waddled through the peat

Floyd fluttered round the swan awhile
Inviting it to dance
It prowled around the water’s edge
And looked at him askance
Floyd watched the swan patrolling and
Recoiling from his prance
It raised its wings, he ducked his head
Floyd waved his bum, the swan saw red
Floyd’s owner just looked on in dread
He didn’t stand a chance

The ducks departed swiftly
As the swan rose to full height
And the fishermen were fumbling
And trembling with fright
And even Floyd the dog could see
That something wasn’t right
The swan exclaimed and wildly flapped
Floyd turned and found that he was trapped
Over his eyes, his paws were clapped
All bark is Floyd, no bite

Floyd waited for destruction but
The beating never came
It was only now he stood again
Responding to his name
His owner cried You eejit!
If you die I’ll get the blame!
The swan forgotten, Floyd skipped off
To dig up something foul to scoff
Perhaps a stagnant pond to quaff
Or some small plant to maim


Widely and inexplicably loved, but entirely useless. He is the Bob Dylan of dogs.




This is another poem about my dog Floyd. Now that he’s four and a bit, Floyd is slightly more mature than his puppy days though he still has his moments even now! There is nothing in the world that Floyd hates more than a shower. He will literally run from the room and hide behind anyone and anything that he thinks will protect him if you even say the word ‘shower’. Yes, it’s safe to say he is not a shower fan, but he will occasionally bring it on himself by engaging in one of his favourite pastimes which is rolling in muck on the common. He enjoys it in the moment, but it’s incredibly frustrating watching it happen and knowing that there’ll be a long and arduous battle to get him into the shower that evening.


Floyd’s ears flailed like wind socks
Kicking up rocks as he ran
Deftly slinking by the road blocks
Like an old fox, he began

Though puddles turned his paws brown
Didn’t slow down, kept the pace
His owner, shouting a rude noun
With a small frown, joined the race

Floyd was hurtling round the lakeside
Took a short slide in the mud
Leaping forwards with a great stride
Then a quick glide, then a thud

Landing face first, down he splattered
Still he battered through the dirt
Floyd was unaware it mattered
As he clattered on unhurt

But his owner, flecked with lake swill
Calmly sat still on a log
Muttering, as owner oft’ will
I’m gonna kill that daft dog

Someone may have said the S word

He also just assumes that if anyone says his name, they’re offering him food.



This limerick is dedicated to my dog Floyd. It’s a nostalgic nod to his time as a puppy. He turned four this year but the scars of his youth remain. It’s a little known fact that puppies, like young humans, have baby teeth. These baby teeth are razors that slice through flesh like a hot knife through butter. I speak from experience. Painful, painful experience.

I love Floyd dearly, but he was a nightmare.


There once was a puppy called Floyd
Who men with bare feet would avoid
Or else feel the pangs
Of his sharp, puppy fangs
As the heels of their feet he destroyed

Grown in years...

Grown in years…

...but not in wisdom

…but not in wisdom




Floyd is my family’s dog. He’s a bundle of joy, as most dogs are, but he’s also a gangly mess, a drama queen and a completely incompetent hunter with a taste for his own poo. He likes to think he’s threatening and will gladly bark at the postman from behind the safety of the front door but out in the field he is suddenly faced with his own uselessness. It’s quite sad.


With legs like undone shoelaces
He races
Outpaces his owner
And crosses the park

He stops, his nose points like an arrow
Eyes narrow
A sparrow has landed!
But Floyd doesn’t bark

He takes baby steps and he’s glaring
Still staring
Preparing to pounce
And to violently kill

For all of his stealth, the bird hears
Floyd’s fears are reality
No longer still

He gives up the chase and he grumbles
Then stumbles
Floyd fumbles his footing
And falls to the grass

His owner is calling, Floyd snoozes
And chooses to lie
Til the tantrum has passed

In this recreation Floyd appears as himself, a crow plays the sparrow, and Judi Dench stars as the grass

In this recreation Floyd appears as himself, a crow plays the sparrow, and Judi Dench stars as the grass