She’s young and wild, a furry spark,
The queen of chase at Inwood Park.
With legs like springs and eyes that gleam,
She’s every squirrel’s flying-dog dream.
A brown-white flash, a comic blur,
You shout “Go fetch!”—you answer her.
She doesn’t wait, she teleports—
Defies all common doggy sports!
The ball takes off—she’s gone before,
She skids and slides, but wants it more.
With comic timing, twist and twirl,
She lands mid-air—a circus girl!
No fluff, no frills, no diva flair,
Just sleek-speed fur and zany flair.
She zooms like thunder down the lane—
Our funny, wagging bullet train.
She grins, she spins, she pounces low,
Then stops to sniff…a leaf? A toe?
Distracted, sure—but never mean,
She’s part comedian, part machine.
Rain? She’ll scowl and lift one paw,
Like stepping in it breaks the law.
But sometimes—just for laughs or fun—
She’ll splash a puddle, then she’ll run!
Her human’s fit, and walks with pride,
But Nina’s got the wilder stride.
She loops, she leaps, she loops again—
Then flops right down. “Okay. Your turn then.”
So here’s to Nina, ball in jaw,
The fastest pup you ever saw.
A giggling soul with doggy reign—
The sprinting, sniffing bullet train.