Ben Poem by Morgan Michaels

'Honey, that dog is ugly! ' insists my wife.
That did it.
I knew what she meant, though.
The dog was...if not ugly, extremely homely.
That dog, by any standard,
was a dog.
His tongue hung out from his mouth
like the tail of a Q
His snoring was stentorian.
His spattering plain messy-
obviously a short nasal tract.
His nose was shoved in his mug-
it begged for rhinoplasty,
and more. Especially, more.
It was time to call Dr. Arbelle, for sure:
certified animal plastic surgeon.
We had his card.
I remembered Kit saying
'I wouldn't trust Ben's snout
with anyone but Dr Arbelle-
And why not?
Easy hours. Major credit cards accepted.
'Yes, honey, I replied,
beginning to miss Ben in advance,
'One of these days...'
But she persisted until one day
there was nothing else to do:
we called for an appointment.
'Can you come in next Tuesday? '
When the day came,
'C'mon Ben, ' I said, disingenuously,
We're going for a little ride.'
Ben suspected nothing.
In fact, he seemed content, barked
and leapt into the back seat of the land rover.
'And while you're at it, ' yelled Kit,
'ask about tail enhancement'
'Yes, dear, ' I sighed, 'anything else? '
'Yeh. Ask about the special diet.'
Off we drove.
But sure enough, the closer we got to the clinic
the better Ben began to look:
'it's like before you get a haircut, '
I reasoned, beginning to doubt the whole thing...