Eight puppy legs can save the morning

Two canine smiles greet me with enthusiasm.

What an escort service.


Forget the newspapers. Ignore the coffee, honey

and tea. These dogs almost

drop the sun in my lap. Great Helios,


if I yelled fetch and they could,

they would, along with newspapers, soggy socks,

countless shreds of trash and funny capers.


As it is they guide me for miles

running with me on a meandering trail

by Green Lake.


What a picture they make

with those wild tails of gold and brown

paintbrush the countryside every color but frown.


All who witnesses

this mad dash of panting

can’t help but laugh.


The brunette is on a gentle leader.

The blond is a gentle leader.

Both heart breakers leave me behind.


The chocolate lab stops dead in his tracks

while I in a sprinting dash nearly fall over,

almost eat the cracks on the pavement for breakfast.


Way to go Corwin, Cocoapuffs, Rover.


The golden one heads up down and all around.

Alpha Beau zigzags through the woods to fish town.

Has stink down to a science as many dogs do.


OK, so he knows the way better than I

What can I say?  Beaten by dogs.

Heck, they love me,


these magic flea carpets

with all their barking

romps and antics


through roads and parks.

In what seems like an aerial flash,

we jog back home to the front door.


Into the lake we all go,

paddle to look for golden ore,

and a bright ball of sun.


Then the fun really begins.

I start to swim.

Help, they’re coming after me.


To play?


No, to save me

with nose bumps claws and paws.

Jump in my lap at home OK?


Boy these dogs can really bowl me over.

Pin me under. Drag me to shore.

Hey it’s two to one. That’s not a fair score.


This game isn’t over

until I get the furry sprinkler treatment,

have my towel swiped,


get thoroughly slimed,

have a collection of rubber chew toys

dumped at my feet.


Boys will be boys.

What a treat. We’re far from wiped.

We’ll repeat the entire fiasco tomorrow.


~ by dianeklammer on March 9, 2013.

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