Proper Dog Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Proper Dog



Beware the proper dog
Who barks like a gentleman—
He will sniff your woman’s
Crotch when you are not looking….
He will take your praise
And lick your palm if you
Feed him a biscuit,
He will even allow you to be
His patron as long as
You have the wealth to back him,
But as soon as you show weakness,
As soon as you are out of cash,
He will turn his hat and
Lift his leg to mark his territory.
He will hump your woman.
He will eat your cat,
Because though you thought
He was your pet,
He is nothing but what he is,
And proper is a misplaced adjective
On him or anything;
For though his home is beautiful,
His coat is full of flees;
He licks his crotch
When he is thinking.
He practices polygamy when his
Loyal bitch is not looking,
And the moon is his ancient cousin,
Eons before the leash and cane,
His first nature runs in the bloodthirsty
Packs through the night’s tundra.
No matter how you dress him,
No matter what he drives,
Or what he does to make a living,
Your proper dog is much like the man
Who feeds him:
A creature of its first nature,
Be it either werewolf
Or a proper gentleman.

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Robert Rorabeck

Robert Rorabeck

Berrien Springs
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