Brownie is a dog
A chocolate lab; as brown as a log
Coated with mud, flowing
Down; lowering
Tufts of fur surround Brownie’s neck
His runs wild like a wreck
Of cheetahs running
With a strange kind of cunning
Brownie’s tongue flicks out; panting
As sogged drool trickles; ranting
His eyes are hazel; wise
As though he could defy the lies
Of old age
As evident in his bearded cage
Of white-gray hairs
Under his chin; growing in pairs
Brownie looks up at me; glancing innocently
As if he never caused trouble; yet also glances hesistantly
As if I know what he’s thinking
Deep in his thoughts; interlinking
His black claws scrape
Against the brown cape
Of dirt; to find a bone
He’s buried so long ago
Seeing no bone, Brownie whimpers and whines
His brown fur shines
Against the sun
Tufts of fur standing up
He then walks; staggering slightly
From the limp in his leg; positioned rightly
To overwhelm his strong legs
That he uses to jump; as if over a hedge
Jumping; with ears flying up
Like a bat; his teeth sharpened and smiling like a pup