Dog Envy
I envy my dog at times and for many reasons.
He eats and sleeps under my roof
yet never contributes a penny towards
his upkeep or my devoted care,
and never lends a paw with housework.
His empty cans of choice dog food contribute
to the weekly garbage, yet he never volunteers
to separate the cans from the papers
and magazines, as the law requires.
I envy his total disregard and indifference
to the weather when he begs to be let out
to relieve himself, especially in pouring rain –
no hat, no galoshes, no raincoat, no umbrella.
I envy his immunity to colds, sniffles, coughs,
and fevers, and, unlike me, his need to
carry tissues or walk down long pharmacy
aisles looking for cold remedies, which has me
doubting what superiority I have, as a human
if any, over a dog? Then, too, I envy
his appetite or lack of complaint at eating
the same dog food twice a day, or his drinking
beverage limited to chlorinated tap water,
or not having to shower, shave, brush his teeth
as I do every day, or never yet having to visit
a dentist for a filling, root canal, or extraction.
Or my need to select a daily change
of clothing for work with coordinating tie,
shirt, socks, shoes, whereas he’s content
in his all-purpose short-haired russet pelt.
And it matters not a jot when or where
I take him for a casual walk – the beach,
the park, or a tail-wagging stroll downtown.
No one chides him for the same boring outfit.
What I envy least about him, I suppose,
is his bold, if not brash, lack of public
etiquette – on sidewalks, storefronts,
street lights, or a tire on a parked car.
But perhaps my biggest envy is when
he rushes out the house in the morning
into the light of a new day to drop his load –
his little face free of effort and strain,
unlike mine when dragging my morning
rear to the bathroom bowl. Damn, what I
wouldn’t do – what you wouldn’t do –
to be regular like that!
Copyright ©
Maurice Rigoler
|