a blue jay sitting
on a branch laden with fruit. . .
the dewormed apple
July 26, 2018
Some silly person once said, “I wish I could live a dog’s life.”
Just because I can’t speak doesn’t mean I don’t have strife.
First you get me as a pup and want to cut off my balls.
I’m given a name and then expected to come when called.
I have to hold my bladder till you notice I’m in distress.
If I have an accident you scream while cleaning up the mess.
You speak a foreign language I am supposed to understand.
Yet ignore my barks to let you know no food is in my pan.
You sleep in comfortable beds and I am left on hard floors.
You spend hours teaching me, “Get my slippers.” another chore.
Have you any idea what it is like to get dewormed and rid of fleas?
Or brought to the bathtub to be washed in cold water to freeze?
Your children sit on my back, pull my ears and give me a smack.
But if I snip at them for that off to the dog house in the back.
Anytime you want to trade the dog’s life for the one you have;
get down on the floor, cut off your balls and
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