Poem: Kayaking with our Dog

 

Kayak Time

 

Every day in the summer, when weather is fine,

After I bathe and before we will dine,

I gather up peanuts and milk stout and wine,

For our favorite thing: it is kayaking time!

 

We call to the dog who gets very excited.

He jumps and he squiggles, so clearly delighted.

He trots to the dock, with his eye on the boat,

For an hour or so he will run, swim, and float.

He starts on the bow while we settle in seats,

B pushes off when I unhook the cleat.

We paddle due north to a point near at hand

Where Buddy jumps off to explore lakeside land.

 

He runs like the wind, he is quite energetic

His muscles work out in a run so athletic.

His leaps over tree limbs are graceful, balletic.

We pause in our paddling, the sight’s so magnetic.

 

He urges us on to explore more and more.

He sniffs a hare trail and finds a swan’s feather

He grabs it, then drops it, he doesn’t know whether

To carry the trophy or deign to ignore

It, when he spies several ducks round the bend on the shore.

 

He races full speed but the ducks are too fast.

They dive off the land which he reaches at last.

Dejected, he watches them leave him, aghast.

 

Like Wiley Coyote, our dog always loses.

I know he feels bad, but it always amuses

Us watching his efforts when he so enthuses

 

But fails every time to catch birds in the past.

He is too optimistic to ever forecast

That a bird can go any which way that it chooses.

 

When younger, our Buddy ran all the way home,

Exploring the bog and the hills as he roamed.

But older, he tires before he gets back,

So, we give him a rest; we cut him some slack.

 

He jumps in the kayak to rest for a bit.

Then, we paddle toward places where shore plants have split.

He can choose to jump off or can kayak with us,

We feel like we’re driving a maritime bus

With stops on the route of his well-worn dirt track.

 

Once home, he is hungry, and so, too, are we.

I warm up the soup; today’s entrée: split pea

With carrots and onion, some orange peel and ham

Maybe serve with a salad, potatoes or yams?

To go with the soup, I made a French boule,

Its crispy crust shatters, it is warm, not yet cool,

We slather on butter or layer with cheese

The dog begs for meat when his mouth starts to drool.

 

We sit on the porch in a light little breeze

The setting’s so lovely, we really are pleased

To enjoy such a place every day that we can

We admire two swans with their five foot wing span

Til Buddy jumps up with a shake and a sneeze

To run round in Zoomies, all movement, no plan.