“Mini Dog”

My old fat black and white dog
can scarcely jump, but tries repeatedly
to catch my attention in this manner.

 Failing that, she craps on the carpet
which immediately catches my eye
if not my nose.

 Outside she goes
where she loves to be
(for short bursts of time.)

 Wish we had a trap door
for her thousand trips in and out,
but we don’t, so I’m the trap door
in her life.

 Maybe she’s sick,
but I don’t see how
Rabies, distemper,
pick a shot.
If it’s over fifty dollars
she’s had it:
I’ve paid for it.

 My fat dog and I
bought the vet
two new trucks
and a rose for his wife.
I didn’t mind the trucks,
but no more roses.

But, then again.

 My daughter’s only six
and loves that fat old dog.
It’s her shadow,
her guardian, her friend;

and when that

fat old black and white dogdies,
it’ll be a sad day.
A very sad day.