Uma ultimately preferred fishy’s silent-yet-sunny personality amid a blue-lit tint over the ululant overtures provided by red-carpeted kits and pups during each foster stint. ; )

Sprocket’s objurgatory tongue tripped those who continued to argue that green was the least easy hue by which the self could be cloaked.

“Camouflage for Sacramento frogs will ever pass the stick-moss test,” he, caressed in cocoa-cream Sunday’s best, assuredly croaked. ; )

Maven of rhyme tilted her head upon reading the coffee clerk’s note.

“Think poetic heart?” she merrily mused at the oh-all-too-apt quote—

Whilst she munched away at croissant even as tumbly began to bloat.

And, while beverage mellowed, she sipped first the cream still stirring afloat.

Then, a rush catching self as the crush on whom barista wished to dote.

“Que sera, sera,” she mouthed at advice already heeded as wrote. ; )

Dawn’s days oft left her feeling teased if not tormented, which is why her mornings, served by sunny rays and honey teas, left veridical the hopes she had for balance in a world both breaking and too fast. ; )

So, Lucky has, alas, lost all of his spunky.

First, why did the chewy toy bite back—that ducky?

Then, she shared neither bacon nor bread from spuckie.

And, finger pointing at paws for turning mucky.

Such tale has puppers wearing tail a la tucky—

Until greener pastures return mood to plucky. ; )