Dixie, My Dog

Like a cat she sleeps on the back of the couch,

Watching the 7 year old warily out of the corner of her eye.

In a very doggie way she greets people coming through the door

 Balancing on her hind legs

Front paws on their knees

Trying desperately to lick their hand.

When I take her on a walk,

She is sure to attract small children.

Little boys and girls pulling their mothers behind them for added courage

“Can I pet your dog?” they ask shyly.

Dixie wiggles happily as they pull her ears

Or step on her foot,

Or scratch her nose.

They go stumbling away surprised when they get

A wet lick on their chocolate covered faces.

Like most dogs she loves a good game of fetch,

But no matter what we try she will not play outside.

There are too many distractions; she couldn’t care less about a squeaky toy,

But inside it is a very different ball game.

Jumping off beds, bursting through doorways,

Nails scraping for traction on the hardwood as she slides around a corner.

She doesn’t seem that smart as we watch her run off

Down the middle of the street chasing a man jogging by,

Cars slamming on brakes to avoid

Our dumb little dog.

But somewhere inside that blond senseless head,

She knows. Oh, she knows.

She knows that my dad will come through the back door at six,

That Lizzy will lie limply and love being licked when she first wakes up,

That when I walk in I’m good for a thorough rub up and down her ribs.

She knows better than to lick my mom

So she settles for sniffing her pant legs vigorously.

She knows what it means when my dad looks for the brush

So she scrambles head first to lodge herself deep under the couch.  

Dixie-dog has her quirks,

But she’s still my best friend.