Walking The Dog

This status symbol of my guilt suggests 
the man walking the dogs isn’t me - but 
my dog rests easy, his coat’s clean and 
free of fleas & hunger pangs; least way 
he sees me twice a day when we greet 

We have plans for the long weekend, a 
pet shop trip for the new leash, which’ll
be necessary when we arrive at Boney 
Beach where we camp, all dogs under 
control please and no littering 

While I can’t speak for him he appears 
at peace with the World as we’re good 
pals who play their roles well, I quickly 
see when he’s troubled, calling for the 
handler who allays my fears; he’s a  

Bit like you he says, needs assurance 
and comfort of regular routines; it isn’t 
easy to achieve in situational mayhem 
were regulations change in eye blinks 
of carolled whimsey - such as if

Ownership won’t be granted unless an 
owner-to-be passes an agreed series 
of liberal-view tests as to who actually 
controls who, independently assessed 
by a certified, unconnected third party 

Which I see as unlikely to be me 

© 19 July 2014, I. D. Carswell