Were we more like dogs--
bounding at the least leash jangle--
what lives we might lead.
Free from exercise clubs, treadmills, spandex, sweat,
butt naked--but in fetching fur--
with glee and drool,
we'd rise for morning yoga,
before the kibbled feed.
Turning our eye briefly
from He whose Hand we Heed,
we'd next decide,
what best to mark with pee.
And then, with the day stretching before us,
maybe we'd hide a bone somewhere,
or bark.
Barking could be good,
quite the lark.
And then we'd do our round,
checking for things to sniff,
reading the mail,
digging.
And after, we'd fall into a good long nap,
in which we'd dream of heaven, thick with sticks,
of a delicious cold stream,
of chasing grey squirrels
in black and white woods.
David Ritchie
Portland, Oregon
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