Before they strapped a chain link trinket around his coal black throat,
a hundred loving strokes a day smoothed his black fur coat.
He had a special diet stacked neatly on a shelf,
and though it was placed low enough for him to reach himself,
he never helped himself to it, and right up to this writing,
I never heard one word of his barking or his biting.
A paragon of virtue, he expelled no doggie farts,
and though his nose was yearning to explore some private parts,
he kept it strictly to himself, polite without a lapse,
and came running with his flouncy gait to whistles or to claps.
In short, he was the perfect dog—sleek and trim and dark,
so when his master took him running in the park,
he always got a special treat in his own private cup,
and to reward his human, he lapped the whole thing up!
I photographed this good boy in the park in Sheridan, Wyoming, where I went with my friend Marti, and since I am a good girl, I lapped up a cup of chocolate and salted caramel ice cream myself as well!