# The Stubborn Little Queen
She sits like a statue when I call her name,
Those dark eyes declaring she won't play my game,
My Tibetan terrier, my furry revolt,
Who turns every walk into a dead bolt.
"Come here," I say sweetly, she tilts her small head,
Then plants herself firmly and stares straight ahead,
Her silky coat shimmering in defiant stance,
She's mastered the art of the "not-a-chance" glance.
The leash becomes useless, she's rooted in place,
A smug little smile spreads over her face,
She's decided this tree needs thorough inspection,
Despite my pleas, treats, and misdirection.
At bedtime she claims the forbidden couch,
A four-legged princess, a furry old grouch,
She knows every rule and chooses to bend them,
My sweet little rebel, I'll never defend them.
But oh, how I love her determined ways,
This stubborn small queen who brightens my days,
She's taught me that sometimes you must stand your ground,
The wisest of lessons from twenty-five pounds.
My willful companion, my headstrong delight,
You're perfectly wrong and completely right,
My Tibetan terror, my obstinate art,
You've stubbornly stolen the whole of my heart.
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