I know the dog has
No words,
But the Wookie talks.
When I got back up at three
After sitting reading in bed,
She frowned at me, those
Brows knitting, thunderclouds.
When I began working the trash
Her tail tucked tight to her belly,
Her eyes wept, and she dropped
Her regal head down low;
See, she has a terror of trash bags,
When I snap one to open
She hides.
I do not know the reason why,
But she is a rescue so
Whatever might be,
I try to make clear that bags are safe,
But I am not sure she sees
Even humans taking that space.
She has settled now
Under the table at my feet,
Wookie and Tribble love
Times I sit down because
They can nestle close with me.
I think them extraordinary dogs
To adapt to someone like myself,
My canines bring such happiness
In their being, doing, living.
© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan
Haphazard Creative 