The dogs resist, the owners tug;
The
passersby who see that shrug
For
humans have the upper hand,
Their
pets attuned to their command.
I
often wonder what they’d choose
To
do instead, when they refuse –
Remain
in place to sniff a scent
Or
run to where the squirrel went.
Perhaps
they merely want it known
That,
more than any treat or bone,
They
really want to have a voice
In
where to go that is their choice.
Alas,
the ones who wear a leash,
Who
might be thinking, Really? Sheesh!
Don’t
have the chance to disobey
Or,
tethered so, to run away.
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