By BernardYoung

The Dog I Never Had

I always wanted a dog.
The nearest I got was sharing ‘Rip’
who lived next door.
He’s a distant memory.
I think he was white with brown patches.

I could have a dog now.
I’m within easy reach of a beach.
(Look, I can put my hand out of the window
and nearly touch the sand).
Every day we would go for walks
by the sea.

I’d buy one of those things
(slings?) that owners have
to help them hurl a ball
a long long way.

He’d hurtle off after it.
Perhaps he’d swim in the sea.

It would be a good life for him and me.
But I have a cat, an old boy, who’d be
far from happy with a new intruder
and I’m not sure I’d relish turning out
(though, of course, I’d do so) in all weathers
for his daily exercise.

And I’d worry about him getting lost,
becoming ill,
or being savaged by fiercer dogs.
And, though it’s something I’d get used to,
I really don’t fancy having to
pick up and bag his poo.

I love my dog

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