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Puppies&’ Christmas Anon It&’s the day before ChristmasAnd all through the houseThe puppies are squeakingAn old rubber mouse.The wreath which had merrilyHung on the doorIs scattered in piecesAll over the floor.The stockings that hungIn a neat little rowNow boast a hole inEach one of the toes.The tree was subjectedTo bright-eyed whims,And now, although splendid,It&’s missing some limbs.I catch them and hold them.”Be good”, I insist.They lick me, then run offTo see what they&’ve missed.And now as I watch themThe thought comes to me,That their&’s is the spiritThat Christmas should be.Should children and puppiesYet show us the way,And teach us the joyThat should come with this day?Could they bring the messageThat&’s written above,And tell us that, most of allChristmas is love.