Dead Dog Walking

Took my dead dog for a long walk today. I like to think that some that passed by glimpsed the whisk of her bushy tail or heard her cheerful panting, as she strained at the leash. I was reading a book about Shelties, how they were bred to be working dogs, sheep herders, and won’t ever be lapdogs. Back home, both tuckered-out, I glance down, she is asleep already, no doubt chasing my legs, around a bunch of lampposts and fire hydrants.