That’s “Poe,” not “Poo,” in case you thought I was being funny.
I found a book the other day in dad’s collection, written by some guy named Edgar Allan Poe. In it was a story called The Raven. Raven? I dragged my sister over to show her how famous she was, but she wasn’t interested. In fact, she made a big deal out of telling me that she isn’t a bird.
Still, I couldn’t get it out of my head, and I was still thinking about it as I went to bed that night. So, as I opened my laptop to tell you about a recent event, I figured I’d give it a poetic spin. I mean, can’t dogs do Poe? Maybe I’m a poet and don’t know it!
So here we go…
The Meeping
As I lay in bed just sleeping,
Wiggling feet as I was dreaming,
A sound intruded, digging deeply,
A quiet mouse or something meeping.
‘Twas someone snoring. Nothing more.
It reached within my dreaming jumbles,
Of tummy rubs and purple flowers,
Squirrels and birds and kibble showers,
The sound came to the fore.
It bade me wake, and dream no more.
Wake… it whispered softly, surely,
My eyes responded more demurely,
The meeping, squeeking? Softly cheaping,
Would not be ignored.
Could it be the bat of yore?
Behind my eyes the darkness shifted,
Pushed aside, my eyelids lifted,
Opened softly, slow and sure.
Darkness there, and nothing more.
Was it real? I wasn’t sure.
Then all at once the sound returned,
Cast aside the darkness yearned,
A soft insistent ceasless meeping,
Faintly ‘cross my chamber floor.
It bade me wake, and dream no more.
My dreams now banished to the ether,
The quiet meep became a roar,
Meeping, cheeping, surely beeping,
It screamed across my chamber floor!
Sleep was finished. Dreams no more.
Bursting through my kennel door,
I raced across the chamber floor,
Atop my dad — silently shouting,
WAKE UP DAD AND DREAM NO MORE!
The beep persisted, evermore.
It shook the very room’s foundations,
My dad in dreamy blurred frustration,
Grabbed a torch and swept the floor,
Why doth it beep and wheretofore!?
The beep persisted, evermore.
The torch it swept across the walls,
I watched the shadows rise and fall,
Desperate to avoid the glare,
The beacon flashed with nothing there.
The beep persisted, evermore.
At last the beam it did alight,
Upon a box, reflecting light,
A red dot blinking o’er a glass,
“End” it read, and nothing more.
The beep persisted, evermore.
With quiet rage and sure frustration
Dad tore the box from off its station,
“The battery’s dead” he softly spoke,
And pulled the 9 volt off its yoke.
The beeping stopped, and beeped no more.
The night returned, the silence closing,
Upon my weary eyelids boasting,
I think I’ll wait for morning light,
To bark about our crazy night.
The night was quiet, save a snore.
That’s all I’ve got. 🙂
Turns out our carbon monoxide detector had reached the end of its life, and rather than just die politely, it had to beep every couple seconds until someone threw it out a window or chewed it up or something.
Oddly enough, the very next night, mom and dad went to a store and bought a NEW one and put it back in the same place!
That’s ok. This one is quiet. And I know where it is.
And I’m keeping my eye on it… 
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