My Dog Is An Archive Poem by Patti Masterman

My dog is an archive of canine esprit:
Rich in dog years, the repository and catalog
Of so much genetic wisdom, in fur, flesh and bone:
Mitochondrial inheritance of his cells
Of how and when, to seek out a pack;
The rituals of instinctual behavior, in the pack caste-system:
When to piss and grovel; and when to bare the teeth, unflinching
Where his territory begins and ends, and how to deal
With the unavoidable disputes of boundaries
How to pee almost as high on a bush as his own body
To appear larger in his 'scent signature'
How to follow another's smell, making allowances
For the speed and direction of prevailing winds
And differing ages of the scent; how close to place
Nose to ground. How to find fertile females by sniffing,
Mouth open, with the back of the throat
His near kinship to the wolf; or how to howl at the moon
Convincingly; when he feels lonely or needs affirmation
How to lock his penis during mating
That no other male can threaten his stream of seed
How to track and hunt down the rabbit, and how to foil
That sneaky doubling-back; once a hare's gone out of sight.
When to lock steel jaws on the prey;
And when to release the prey:
At that precise instant that he realizes
That a much more adequate, experienced predator
Is breathing down his neck, just behind him-
And though he knows that sometimes it's possible
To outrun other animals; with his four legs
He knows he can never outsmart
The cagey, two-legged variety.