"A Halloween Tale" by Andy the Pug and Edgar Allen Poe

Once upon a midnight dreary, as I lay there weak and weary,

In my bed exhausted from the day of play before,

Outside a storm was brewing and I, on bone a-chewing,

Must admit that I'd been stewing, stewing over some grief or treatment poor,

I wanted sleep and nothing more.

And yet somewhere in the darkness, I heard sounds of quiet unrest,

First a rustle, then a request for attention I was sure.

While I chewed upon my bone, I convinced myself alone

"Must  be Rex or Lily simply wrestling on the floor.

This pug wants sleep and nothing more."

As the noise grew ever bolder and the room did become colder

I kept insisting it was the older dogs playing tug-of-war

"Shush Rex and Lily!"  I implored.

But at once there came a yowling or perhaps it was a howling

But it clearly was no growling from dogs playing on the floor

I wondered, "What could make this sound"?  As I knew it was no hound.

My thoughts first came round to tales of banshees from folk lore

My chance of sleep was looking poor. 

Since awakened by this din and determined from within

I decided 'twas no sin were I to get up and explore

To seek source and destination and the cause of my frustration

Perhaps retaliation and to settle up the score.

This pug roused like ne'er before.

Hair on neck and hackles showing, lip turned up and teeth a glowing

I was no coward pup a-going blindly off to war

I was fierce and I was ready, and my nerves were rather steady

The  hunt had made me heady, but then, at once I swore

As pug, I softly swore.

Could it be I'm dreaming?  A most ear-piercing screaming--

The once silent night now teeming with yelps and shrieks galore

Would I ever have the sleep that I adore?

Towards the source I went a trudging, the nursery door I was nudging

Though at first it wasn't budging, but finally opened, then some more

To my horror there was greeting to the wails which were repeating

And the reason for this meeting not five yards from the door

Could peace this pug restore?

Here was an infant of sturdy build and a clear, determined will

And the strength of lung to fill a stadium and more.

"Are you the source of the treason?  What could be your reason

 to disrupt my sleep this season?   Can peace ever be restored?"

This infant I did implore.

As he lay there, loudly crying, a bottle he was eyeing

And there is no denying I was curious what there was in store

I myself had quite a notion the bottle contained delicious potion

An elixir from the ocean of a far and distant shore

Greed eclipsed me from my core.

The pain that was inflicted as my choices were restricted

Now this pug's two loves conflicted and I had to choose for sure

On the one hand I could sip from the bottle at its tip

And who knows what flavors drip from that liquid gold reward?

A pug loves to eat as none before.

Yet I had my own suspicions if I made off with this rendition

Of that baby's sole nutrition there would be much loud crying in store

And though a pug does love to eat, it's at least an equal treat

To lay down and rest his feet (and ears) and nap upon the floor

Choose "eat" or "sleep" was now my chore

And yea, a pug loves sleeping, but I could not resist a-leaping

And I left that baby weeping for his bottle which was no more

And though I feared his sorrow for the bottle I had "borrowed"

Would not cease until the morrow and his cries would flood the ward

A pug's hunger can't be ignored

So I began a lapping from the bottle and its trappings

Delicious goodness, nothing lacking from the loot which I had scored.

I hoped there'd be no trade-off, and that I'd simply made off

With the bottle that was laden with the milk that I adored,

This pug now wanted sleep and nothing more.

Nestled in with belly full, feeling sleep's gentle pull

From the darkness and the lull I heard a stirring heard before.   

The first sounds did nothing harming, and at first were almost charming

But those cries became alarming and did rouse me from my snore

And I startled at a knock upon my door.

Here  I longed for peaceful slumber and for days and nights unnumbered

To sleep most unencumbered by the presence at my door

But it was not to be, so I offered up my plea

"Let's forget this whole darn thing and let me sleep as I slept before."

Quoth the infant, "Nevermore."

So here I end my tragic tale, (while hoping I have told it well)

The story of a pug who fell prey to wanting more.

Please note this poem was started as the midnight hour departed

And do not be disheartened to find its half past four.

Shall I sleep now?  Quoth the infant, "Nevermore."