You whine, you howl, you bark, you scratch my feet
And jump about on my sleeping body,
Pulling me away from bright, peaceful dreams
So that you can go out to urinate -
Or so I think. But when you’re out instead
You run about the borders of our yard,
Barking at anything that moves or sounds.
Your awful howls waken the neighborhood,
And cost me friendly capital with those
Who live nearby. I force myself awake
To let you in the house when you are done,
Some fifteen or twenty minutes later.
You and I go back to bed: I return
To my dreams, and you to whatever thoughts
Form within the night-time head of a dog.
I sleep, I dream, my body calmly rests,
For fifteen minutes, when you jump on me,