On a Leash

The dogs resist, the owners tug; The passersby who see that shrug For humans have the upper hand, Their pets attuned to their command. I often wonder what they’d choose To do instead, when they refuse – Remain in place to sniff a scent Or run to where the squirrel went. Perhaps they merely want it known That, more than any treat or bone, They really want to have a voice In where to go that is their choice. Alas, the ones who wear a leash, Who might be thinking, Really? Sheesh! Don’t have the chance to disobey Or, tethered so, to run away.