we have a huge dog, we call him Bunk
61kg of furry, drooling hunk
proudly proclaiming himself a guard dog
days of running & he sleeps like a log

twice a day with an evil eye
big yawn, stretches and a sigh
he takes up his station by his bowl
a mountain of food the wishful goal

everything eaten from chillies to beef
feeding him is easy without any grief
but should the food ever run out
we fear, we will no longer be about

Maybe Eaten By A Newfoundland, 2013

This poem won us 6 months supply of Vet’s Kitchen dog food from Zooplus Facebook competition.