Doused

Do you remember Skeet?
Yup, he’s still our cow dog
And stays mostly at my feet.

He still goes gets them beeves.
Avoiding all those hooves
As ‘round the herd he weaves.

I let him out last night,
Right before I turned in.
His barking was a fright!

Pulling on my jacket,
I hurried to find out
Why raise such a racket?

Skeet was by the tack shack,
And just a raisin’ hell.
I thought a Diamondback.

That wouldn’t be too strange.
So, I called for old Skeet,
To get him out of range.


Told Skeet he had to stay
And then I went to check.
I moved hay from my way.

That pole cat shot its stuff,
And son, its aim was good.
My Lord the stink was rough

Why Skeet didn’t get sprayed,
I would have no idea?
Maybe if he had stayed.

Three days since I got skunked
So I don’t blame the boys.
That the barn‘s where I’m bunked.