My Dog

My dog insists on a morning walk
about 5:30.  That’s A.M.
It’s still dark.
I comply.

My dog is determined to smell every
rock and every bush in every yard.  She
looks at me and says,
“Stand there and be
patient.”
I comply.

My dog leaves her natural calling card
in the neighbor’s yard,
turns and stares at me.
“Well, pick it up.”
I comply.

My dog lays at my feet when I sit in my
recliner in the family room.
She whacks me on my foot
with her heavy paw until
I rub her on her back leg.
Whack.
I comply.

My dog loves to chase a ball in the park.
Now, though, she’s old with less energy.
When I throw it, she flops down on the
grass and looks back at me.
“Well, go get it.”
I comply.

I am trained.