By William Craig Rice

Since you won’t have me as your man,
Imagine I’m a dog
Who’s always gaga to see you
And get taken for a jog.

I’m accustomed to the leash you snap,
No longer tug or chew.
Obedience-training was brutal,
But forged my love for you.

The single daily meal you allow,
It sends me into a tizzy.
I drool and spin and double-bark
And wolf it down in a jiffy.

My every canine need you answer,
But for a hug and pat,
Which you so coldly deny me
If I whine: Stop that!

Let’s go for a swim while on this walk.
I’ll fetch the stick you toss,
And drop it at your lovely feet.
I exist to please you, boss.

I’ll lodge my muzzle on your knee
And listen to your woes.
I’m your perfect silent therapist,
All ears and eyes (and nose).

As a dog at least I get to lick
Your cheeks and lips and chin,
My breathing quick, my whiskers stiffE/p>
This borders on masculine.

I worry I’ll wag my tail too hard
And dash your vase of flowers
If you let me through your front doorE/p>
I must control my powers.

Reject me all you like, my love,
But take me on a walk.
I’ll keep my dirty paws off you,
and never learn to talk.

15 November 2015

William Craig Rice has worked as a schoolteacher, auto mechanic, college teacher and president, and federal official. His verse has recently appeared in The Caribbean Writer, The New Criterion, and The Road Not Taken. He lives in Washington, DC.