He worked like a dog
Which is to say
He hardly worked at all.
Comfy at the home office,
He was often found
Dogging it—taking catnaps—
Luxuriating in his lax schedule.
His home life too had gone to the dogs.
That is, he was happy, as he and his wife
Enjoyed their daily outings—
Perambulating about the neighborhood,
Smelling the roses and lilies of the valley,
Happily carrying doggy bags
Home from local restaurants.
Away from the dog-eat-dog world,
They ate like kings.
Oh yes, though he was old,
He’d learned a few new tricks.
Ed Meek‘s poems have appeared in The Paris Review, The Sun, and The Baltimore Review. His new book is High Tide.