Precursor

Sandwiched in between
a shower and shave
and the seven come eleven
drive to work, I walk the dog.

A certain swallow of pride
is necessary to tow a ball
of ribboned fluff on
a purple leash
bouncing about like
steroidal Chia Pet.

Abandoning propriety
the little bitch squats
for one and two
then ‘expectantly’ waits
as I bag her exertions.

It’s a Precursor to the day.

My cat at the shop
smells dog during
the welcoming leg rub,
goes to the litter box,
tidies up then
dares me to pet her.

It’s a Precursor to the day.

Fortunately,
I’m not at the bottom
of the proverbial hill.