Poodle Talk

Poodle Talk
By Mavis Moog (and Crispin)

How are mute eyes so eloquent?
Golden irises flash with wit.
"Have you heard the one about the paw in the mush?"
They ask.
"Go on, give us a hug, it'll only take a tick,"
Nose insists itself under my elbow.
"Imagine the pleasure,
And how long I'll treasure your warmth."
Says chestnut truffle, though muffled.

"Can we go river-rock hopping today?
This way pleeeeease."
Stiff spine pulls in-line
Till nose band checks him;
Like a naughty gymkhana pony.
"This is where the river-rocks are," he pleads,
"Have you forgotten?"
His lithe body curves as he regards me, past his thighs.

When I start cooking dinner,
He waits by the kitchen bins,
"I'll help with the vegetable preparation," he ap-peels.
And wins.
Carrot and parsnip curls
rain between his snaps.

Dog guardians throughout the world will agree
How surprisingly chatty their hounds can be
But head nodding will probably cease
At this last, poetic release.

My poodle, Crispin, once fixed me with his gaze.
"Compared to Earth.
It takes a hundred and sixty five times longer
For Neptune to orbit the sun," he said.
Then bowed his head allowing me to
Scratch the back of his ears.
And I wished poodles had Neptune's years.