Tramping to the shops
Passing old dog haunts
I natter with a dog lady.
Her Yorkie bitten,
‘It’s not the dogs it’s their owners’
We conclude.
Tramping back
Friendly paws climb my jeans.
Never mind,
They needed washing, I lie.
Leaving the park
Another woman asks
Where’s your dog?
Popped his clogs I say
And we natter of furry friends.
Too much responsibility she says.
Hmmm, I reckon I’ll get another,
In about seven years
When the kids don’t need walking any more.
We laugh.
Dogs get you talking
Even when they’ve gone.
Achilles & Aristotle 