My Singing Basenji

My Basenji does not, of course, bark,
but she sings just as well as a lark.
   A coloratura
   who sang with bravura,
in the opera world, she left her “mark.”

Acclaimed for her excellent ear,
she sang twelve different operas a year.
   Her pitch was so sure
   and her tone was so pure
that her listeners, enthralled, would all cheer.

Her voice, loud and clear as a bell,
transfixed you and caused tears to swell.
   Her voice never cracked.
   The theaters were packed.
All were awed till the last curtain fell.

Her fan club consisted of bats,
opossums, raccoons, mice and rats,
   badgers, beavers and bears,
   humans, horses and hares,
coyotes … and even some cats.

Then one evening while singing Menotti
at the Met with the great Pavarotti,
   in the opening scene
   something quite unforeseen—
she squatted and out popped a potty

right on the proscenium stage!
The director went into a rage.
   The orchestra stopped,
   the curtain then dropped,
and they threw the poor dog in a cage.

That was it for my canine’s career.
But she still loves to sing, never fear!
   Though she ain’t no bow-wow-er,
   rare genes did endow ’er
with a voice that is pure crystal clear.

Of late she sings oldies and folk
and jazz. (Do you think I would joke?)
   She’s now singing for me
   with her paw on my knee
as we sit in our yard by the oak.