Lament of the redneck dog

For years I sat, watching the rusty trucks go by
Woof-woofing at the clopping horses
Wagg-wagging, So happy to see you!
Growling at those strangers, one every other day
And when you let me off that chain,
Scrap-scrap-scrapping
with the neighbour dog, that insolent mutt
or chasing the cows, until they chased me back
with their angry moos and piercing hooves.
Then I scurried under the porch and stayed there
until you came home and lovingly, sweetly
coaxed me out.

But now, oh now, oh how
you want to make of me a city dog
a posh dog, a preening dog of pure-blood;
of distinction, poise and confidence.
One who can watch cats prance by with disdain,
not even dreaming of making them scatter
and leap yowling into a tree.
One who would never lunge at a chattering squirrel
or get bloodied in a brawl.
One who knows the meaning of Dog Parks,
doo-doo bags and civilized Sunday strolls,
dog salons, grooming clippers and clothes.

Clothes? Yes, clothes, clothes for dogs
though they hardly make them in my size.

Oh still, I dream of Woof-woof-woofing
at the horses, and you must notice how
my feet twitch and my mouth moves just a little,
but I want you to be pleased with me,
so I keep my dreams inside.
And still, I am so happy to see you!
I Wagg-wagg in a domestic way, trying
not to knock you down or send things flying.
I try to remember what it is you want of me,
what makes your voice soft and complimentary.
I try to be what you need of me,
and yet, in the end, I am still just me,
once and always a redneck dog.

Rachel Westfall
March 10, 2009

(A sister poem for Ode to a skanky mutt)