The Dog Exercising Machine
Yes, I know, I should be alongside.
Age and bad knees
dictate that I am inside the cab
with a long, green leash
so Katie can run close by
every morning,
for the last seven years
in rain, snow and sunshine.
She runs in earnest ( can a dog do that ? )
Her tongue is back against her cheek.
Her ears scan and sweep
and swivel around
left and right
listening for something ahead
or behind
as she gallops, trots,
saunters, paces
at my side.
Sometimes in the dark,
sometimes, just as the sun is coming up,
but always in the morning,
when the smells
of the deer and elk
are still fresh in the grass
and the berry bushes
along the fence.
I love to see her run. I love to hear her run.
I can hear the jangle jangle of her tags and her collar --
her leathery, black ears flapping against her head.
her breathing and sometimes
a snort or puff as her strong, wide paws hit their mark
ker-plop, ker-plop.
Nails dig into the ground
little wisps of grass and dirt, flying.
Now, her ears are back over her head and
the leathery tips almost touch
as her back legs push
like a rabbits
working in time
driving her faster.
When the snow is here
her feet beat their rhythm
in the icy white stuff.
Crunch, crunch, crunch,
the first marks in the snow,
and maybe -- the
marks, in line with the truck's tracks,
there
the next morning.
When she stretches all the way out
in a full run, her tongue is out --
far out of her mouth,
almost lashing against
her cheek.
Her strong back legs
the rounded, hard muscle under the shiny, black coat,
push her along
and I wonder
how all those legs and feet work
in synchronization
as she concentrates on her task
or has her eye
on something ahead
that she has got to get to
now!
Copyright © Thomas Pitre | Year Posted 2009
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