In the Bronx she was broken, skinny, and sore,
Tail cut short, ribs aching, heart on the floor.
A villain kept kicking, what a heartless plan,
Till John shouted loud, “Try that again, man!”
Charlie was trembling, too scared to believe,
But John laid on the floor, love’s trick up his sleeve.
Then one magic morning, surprise of the year,
She snuggled in close, Charlie Baltimore appeared!
Now it’s backpack rides, with her head held high,
Sweaters in winter, pink fashion supply.
She spins like a record, she chases slow hounds,
And when guests come over, oh, fun knows no bounds.
Charlie cuts in with sass:
“Listen up, sweethearts, I’ll just say it straight:
Faye Dunaway’s cool, but she showed up too late.
She’s got Oscars, sure, but let’s not pretend,
Can she spin twelve times without wobbling at the end?
And Barbra Streisand, yes, she sings with some pride,
But has she rocked sweaters with swagger this wide?
Smarter, more gorgeous, more fabulous too,
I’m Charlie Baltimore, and I outshine that crew!”
So folks still insist, “John saved the pup…”
But John only laughs: “She lifted ME up.”
Now they snooze NY to LA, no shadows, no fear,
Just snoring, and spinning, and tail-wags sincere.
And if you ask Charlie her secret to cheer?
She’ll wink and she’ll whisper: “Snacks, sweaters, and John near.”
She spins like a cyclone, then naps like a queen,
The greatest, Dream Girl this world’s ever seen.
