Walking My Human

Each day, I walk my human.

I love watching his mood change 

the farther we get from home.

I know he’s not 

the sharpest tool in the shed,

as he often forgets my name.

He calls me Ucker, or

he confuses me with a duck, of all things. 

I am NOT a ducking dog.

What a fool he is.

I’ll sniff and point 

and eat so much juicy grass tips,

that he thinks I’m a cow.

I’ll wander aimlessly and 

take him on these 




My god, he needs it.

He’s got a spare tire with him,

and we’re not even driving!

He’s fat,

and I am not talking PH phat.

I love when we are an hour or so 

into the walk,

and he gets the zombie eyes.

I’ll wait for one of my friends to come out,

Sammy Squirrel or Robby Robin,

and then I’ll bolt.

Man, I can sometimes hear his shoulder

pop out

of his socket!

I haven’t knocked him over yet,

but you can’t say I’m not trying.

My human pampers me. 

He cleans up my poo,

sometimes getting it on his hands or shoe.

He’ll chauffeur me around town

to some of my favorite designer stores,

Petco or Off the Leash.

He drops a bundle of cash at these stores

just for me.

You’ll die for those mani pedis at the salon.

They’re not cheap,

but I’m worth every penny.

Everyone stops to compliment me,

and not once have I heard anyone tell me

“Hey, that’s a good-looking human you have there.”

If you haven’t gotten yourself a human yet,

you’re missing out!

I’d go get one today,

and let your entitlement begin.

See you later,

when I am out 

walking my human.

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