A Dog’s Life
for Pippin
 
I
Curls cover her body
as a twelve-week pup, weaned
then separated as the litter
is sold to eager owners.
 
Certificates and shots in order,
the bright dog-bed and harness
purchased. Name debated
and a toast of welcome given.
 
Brown eyes soon devoted
to the feeder, walker and ball
thrower. Round patches
on the lawn, holes under plants.
 
II
You flop-eared spaniel,
stout with fish and chicken
and anything left unattended
on a plate, hauled on the sofa
to keep your master’s lap warm.
Walks where you loosen his arm
from its socket as other-scents
beckon. Pocket treats to move
in rain, snow – inclement weather
when a dog should be snug.
 
III
Four o’clock. The appointment
your master wants to miss
after the news of lymphoma
and low-count platelets
but worse to find you cold
in your kitchen dog-bed
with supper hardly touched.

Sue Spiers
 
If you have any thoughts on this poem, Sue Spiers would be pleased to hear them.