Older and retired-er,
I feel my status erode.
If I admit it,
I’ve never been the top dog
in my own pack before.

So now, my three sister-dogs
and I
maintain the dog network
that probably runs for miles,
at least on this side of the rivers
and lakes.

We know in advance of
joggers, packs of bicyclers,
I don’t know why we care about them at all.
But we dutifully chuff and huff
responses and signal boosters
and pass the intel along down the line.

We know about too loud ATVs
and stealth animals in the woods,
but the full sound and fury go forth
if there is a dog doing dog
inside of my area of responsibility.

I remember before I was older
and retired, ….

but, no, there’s too much thinking about nothing there.

I’ll stay here on a one-acre plot.
My eyes are shortened by the trees,
but my ears go out about 300 yards
(or meters. I piss on the distinction.)
with good distinction,
and my nose can do a thousand more than you.
A thousand anythings.

All day we receive messages
along these channels
and send the intel on down the line.

I trust what I see, only some,
I trust what I hear a bit more,
But what I smell is the truth.
The truth often stinks.

I live this life in captivity in exchange for
my taste.
Here i will be fed, and in exchange
i will offer the benefit of my eyes, ears and
the Dog-given power of my nose.
It’s what I do. It’s a good gig.