Walking the dog (or the dog walks me),
both of us know it’s good to be free.
Under the sky, clear or gray,
morning or night the dog gets his way.
Lucky am I to have such a pet,
caring for him I’m not dead yet.
Pet or pest I can’t decide,
I settle for both
my furry friend guide.
Pulls me along at a perilous pace,
each us know our place.
Off comes the leash, at rest in my lap,
we read the paper and then take a nap.