Sick as a Dog

The slobbery hound walked up to me in the park today

His owner tried to control him, but alas, he would not stay.

He jumped up and panted, his vile breath tickled my face

Then he promptly licked my lips, and dragged his owner on a chase.

I watched the dog run away and sniff another’s tail

I watched as he mouthed a decaying squirrel on the trail.

Of course, he stopped to lick himself and to eat some waste

Balking in disgust, I wished the memory would erase.

I have often heard people say that the dog’s mouth appears quite clean

Yes, the cleanest, I repeated, trying to forget what I had seen.

Most dog owners, like me, have experienced a time in which their dog has lovingly licked their face. Of course, once the dog has walked away, I often find myself considering all of the disgusting dead animals, garbage, etc. that a dog encounters and consumes on a daily basis. These thoughts often cause me discomfort and disgust, reactions I express in the poem. For example, the appalled speaker notes the dog’s “vile breath” and consumption of “waste” (3, 7). The negative connotations of “waste” and “vile” directly characterize the disgusting nature of a dog’s mouth, arousing disgust and discomfort. Furthermore, the speaker observes the hound as it mouths “a decaying squirrel” (6). The revolting diction of “decaying” evokes pathos and appeals to the repulsion of dog owners, who ignore the reality of their dogs’ hygiene.  In the end, I refer to the cliche that the dog’s mouth proves its cleanest part (9). This statement juxtaposes the previous revolting characterizations of the dog’s mouth and thus creates irony.  Though I do not challenge the science and statistics behind this claim, as I watched my Springer Spaniels drag a dying baby rabbit to the porch last month, I wondered about the cleanliness of their mouths. Overall, I do not advocate ignoring a dog’s love, but I do encourage humans to acknowledge what their dogs eat—anything and everything.