Dogged is a Life

Real dogs don’t take their
shoes off at the door,
leave no personal footprints
on your pristine floor.
They slide through lives
like ancients on speed,
giving nothing, only sampling
to fulfil their need.

Their tales are never waged
to fit in any others suit,
but the tail always stands
tall with a solid root.
Never snarling unless a
snarl is so required,
in control, although they
at times seem wired.

Cut’s out an edge,
and so stays off the lead
leaves by the rear entrance,
avoiding the fuss of affront.
Sniffs out sweet bitch
fascinated indeed,
separates silky slender
limbs, explores her creed.

They never die just
sadly disappear,
moments in memory
is all that is left.
Somehow now we
know of their fear,
still we stand silent,
more than bereft.
We miss them till,
like a bus along
comes the next,
no time to hang about
we’re back to our feat.