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Dogs:

A dog
and a stick...
The dog wins!

Fun to be able to say it in eight syllables. And I think I did say it. You can even see him strutting away with stick in mouth, his victory dance. Those three dots are a drum roll.


As we walk away,
the dog's barks become fewer
in the winter air.


I'm glad my passing
brings so much excitement to
so many dog's lives.


Floating Polka-dots...
vanish into a snow drift--
a Dalmatian.


L.A. night.
Three stray dogs sniff me, trot off,
thinking, "Where's his car?"


She brings me her ball:
I toss it, she brings, I toss...
Who is training whom?


The dog beats her tail
on the floor: WHACK WHACK WHACK.
I wish I could do that.


We have cats, dogs and
urine smell in every season
of the haiku.

Refers to the traditional haiku's requirement that every haiku be associated with a season. By that standard, many of my haiku are not haiku, but I hope my non-Perrier will quench thirst.


Another NO DOGS
ALLOWED sign. Mine would lift
a leg and piss on it.

He probably wouldn't have, but it felt good to say so.


He sweats through his tongue.
I'm being licked on the cheek
by a dog's armpit.


Out of the pond,
collie shakes loose in the sun
a silver cloud.


The sky blinding blue,
Trees still snow, dropping
Bright wet pliffs and pluffs.

Poof! Snow-showered,
The dog jumps, eyes me. It wasn't me!
The tree did it!

The above two haiku go together.


Old poodle can't see
Or hear much. He wobbles up
To my leg, leans there.


Big black dog
stands on the vet's table,
shivering.


Hot, humid.
Like a refrigerator surge,
the dog's panting.


From bathroom to bed...oops!
Tripped on a black furry
speed bump.


On TV a woman
is crying. Our dog
isn't fooled.


Old dog wanders off,
I haul him back, as time
gets slippery.


Old dog limps now.
In sleep he stretches out, runs,
as in dreams I fly.


Old dog paces,
paces, waiting for death...
or birth.

Reborn, I'm sure. If you meet him this time around, say hello to him for me.


Another car --
My and three dog's heads go up
quick! then down – not her.

All of us waiting for my wife to get home - she's late. Car sounds, but they go past.

Old black dog,
new bald patches at the elbows--
how Ivy League!


"Private! Private!" bark
suburban dogs, as excited
as insulted virgins.


The sign says "City
Animal Shelter". Auschwitz
was a Jew Shelter?

Note: The dogs are sheltered for a few days, then gassed. Perhaps this is all for the best in this best of all possible worlds, but "shelter" is an odd word for it. The sign "Animal Shelter" is reminiscent of the sign above the death and labor camps: "Arbeit Macht Frei": Labor Makes One Free.


The neighbor's dog
wants to play. I have to go,
his eyes on my back.


Her car in the drive --
three dogs rush the screen door
just behind my thoughts.


5 a.m. -- from the hall,
scrabble of castanets:
old dog pacing again.

Dogs can't sheathe their claws, like cats, so are tap dancers on wooden floors.


Home -- eager dogs
rush the door. Can't they see
the clenched fist, the eyes...?


Old dog sniffs...WHAT?
Leaps downhill like a puppy...
I carry him back up.


CRACK! says the sky.
Eyes seek mine - two cats and two dogs.
They just look at me.


I let him on the bed.
My nearness means much more
to him than to me.


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