“my pekechi named nick and his love of his lambchop stuffies”

Nick, my pekechi, regal and spry,  
With lion’s mane ruffled and bright button eye,  
A prince in his kingdom of cushions and throws,  
He reigns with a wiggle wherever he goes.

Curled up in sunlight or chasing his tail,  
Adventure begins at the sound of the mail.  
But treasures, he’ll tell you, are soft, pale, and plush—  
His lambchop stuffies he gathers in a hush.

Round and inviting, with noses of pink,  
He nuzzles their fleeces and brings them to drink—  
(Though bowls stay untouched, for he likes to pretend  
That Lambchop’s his guest, his confidant, friend).

He’ll parade them at dusk by the old window seat,  
Lambchop in his jaws, a prize to repeat.  
He’ll offer them dreams with a gentle-faced grin,  
Nudging and tucking his friend’s cotton chin.

When lightning shakes windows or wind rattles doors,  
Nick seeks his Lambchop and sprawls on the floors.  
Together they weather the world outside—  
A dog and his comfort, his small woolen guide.

So here’s to dear Nick and his stuffie delight,  
May cuddling Lambchops make each evening light—  
May soft toys and whiskers bring joy ever true,  
For a pekechi’s love is a love pure and new.

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