Here’s one I wrote ages ago and forgot about

Barney chased a rabbit. It hopped down a rabbit-hole: A burrow in a grassy bank that called to Barney’s soul. Terriers love to dig, so Barney dug – into the muck. The burrow narrowed. Barney pushed and scrabbled. He was stuck! Young Barney’s master – farmer Phil – was calling, ‘Barney, here!’ He heard no bark. He saw no dog. His anger turned to fear. He searched the ditch beside the field, where rabbit-holes are found, And one big burrow, very wide, had fresh earth all around.

Within the burrow, Barney’s rabbit watched him from afar. He whimpered – doggy-speak for help. It went to fetch its Ma. More rabbits came when Ma approached, and Barney squirmed some more. ‘Come on, young pup, get shifting now. You’re blocking our front door.’ Rabbits advanced and showed their teeth, but Barney couldn’t flee. So old Ma Rabbit sighed, and said, ‘Come on, we’ll dig you free.’ They loosened earth and Barney wriggled forward in the dust. There wasn’t space to turn around, so Ma said, ‘Follow us.’ He crawled inside the burrow – rabbits guarding front and rear. They spilled out to a wider space, and Barney quaked with fear. There sat a rabbit big as he: a big old ugly buck, He thundered, ‘Who invades my hall?’ Ba quavered, ‘I got stuck.’

He drooped his ears and shook his tail, to show he meant no ill. Meanwhile above ground, digging round the hole, was farmer Phil. Phil’s friends were there with spades and more were coming down the track. Behind them sounded Barney’s bark. ‘They let me out – I’m back!’

Still made me laugh second time around
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I think Ruff is trying for a second installment…
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Love this one Cathy, my friend had a dog just like that. Constantly disappearing down inviting rabbit holes, often turning up in another field or requiring rescuing. After the last time that took a great deal of digging out she wouldn’t let him off the leash anymore. He wasn’t happy but she felt so much safer having him tied to her. I could just imagine those rabbits and their conversations with a stranger in their midst.
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Thanks for commenting. Right now, our 1-year-old Ruff is trying to access the local burrow network froom our back garden. It’s a good thing we don’t aspire to a croquet-quality lawn!
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fun poem!
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Glad you liked it. Based on one of our dogs – sadly no longer with us. Although the new pup is doing his best to find that tunnel… from our garden.
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they tend to dig in the worst places…
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