Pug in the Woods

Posted by Anne in Poems - Humorous on 10-1-13

Here I can be — dog pug dog I,
in among the leaves and undergrowth
to identify dogs who have passed by
the dogs I know and the dogs I don’t.
It’s not a game this rootling the trail we leave each other.
It’s knowing my place on the map of dog landscape.
Here I am not being a hot water bottle,
or someone to talk to instead of the furniture,
someone for a loner to stroke or throw a fluffy pink rabbit to.
Nor am I watch dog, alarm for strangers and visitors
for her whose ears do not work.
Only semi freedom, restrained by leash
because of the road she says,
but maybe because she’s not so sure
that I wouldn’t run beyond where she could see or go
like a cat who has a kingdom.
My young legs though short
can trot for hours given the chance,
on those long summer walks which wait on good weather.
Steady rain drums on my mac
which I suffer as I hate to be wet.
My feet squelch in rotting leaves
and gunk gets between my toes.
She will bath me later.
I strain and gag, huffing and puffing
like no wolf ancestor you can imagine
at quick squirrel, and magpie’s wings fanned in flight.
A large dog looms towards us along the path,
off the leash, magnificent and imperious.
Nose aloft it lopes past me as if I’m invisible.
I bark and yelp, crane and demand attention.
Acknowledge me. I am dog pug dog.
She picks me up.
Oh the indignity.

Mama’s Boy  Robert …  Buy This at Allposters.com