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(Doogie and I qualify for a seeing-eye dog and a hearing dog—but I’m allergic to animal dander. We imagined us each having a dog and them mating to create a pup, Mac, who wound up with three eyes so he could do the work of two dogs.)
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Three-eyed Mac,
prickly hair in his ears,
stereos what he hears.
His vision’s triplicate
with details … intricate.
Should he bark? (Won’t hear it.)
Block crossings?
(Can’t see ‘em.)
Three-eyed Mac
watches when we’re walking
I can’t ‘watch’ when talking.
When an engine roars, starts,
he jumps on its top … farts.
People freeze, we walk on,
not knowing
Mac saved us.
Three-eyed Mac,
upon hearing the door bell,
will answer the door, swell.
Cell phone on his behind,
Mac licks hands when it whines.
Takes our T.V. remote
after bedtime, hits mute.
Longingly bonds commence
using his unique scents.
Three-eyed Mac reacts defensively;
blind and deaf, need help see?
Jumps up, licks our face
when we’re in the wrong place.
His paws on our shoulders,
keeps us from disasters.
Three-eyed dog with a strut—
shoulders out,
pulled-in gut.

He rules the trio,
Mac, the three-peep-o.