Dog Days

There is something about Fall
that loves a dog.

Cats are for Winter-
furry purry balls
to keep your feet warm
at night and shed hairs
all over Santa.

But there is something about a dog
and a crisp Fall day
and the bronze brown leaves
and the slanting afternoon late-shadows,
and the smell of woodsmoke-
and the crackly, crispy woods trail-

And the distracted squirrels,
interrupted while gathering the last nuts
chatter, annoyed
more than scared,
and hurl rodent swear words
at the wagging tail, then disappear.

And the Fall-cold stream,
splashing frantically before the freeze,
nips his well-furred toes
as he taunts it by jumping
and then retreats to the bank
for a well-earned rub down.

No Springtime mud on his paws,
No Summertime ticks and burrs on his coat,
No Wintertime ice caking his tail-

There is something about Fall
that loves a dog.