Walking The Dog

Her shaky hands grip  my lead and I can sense her nervous need.
I bark, but she is distracted. Hood up, eyes forward.
My owner reaches in her pocket and frantically opens one of her boxes.
Those black boxes control her actions and the white paper cylinders keep her distracted.
She does not look even though I bark. Hood up, eyes forward. She is blind.
I wonder, would she still take me out. In the rain and wind and snow.
If her need was not quite so
It seems as though she can not go an hour or so without that antidote.
I stare at my owner, it’s painful to watch and I do not understand
I bark again and this time she stops. She knows she should.
‘Run’ she says, but she’s been running too.
Click, click. It breaks me. It fixes her.
She drags, drags and drags again. My lead is short now, yet still she drags.
And once the ember finally dies and her hands stop shaking I see in her eyes.
My owner’s at ease once again. Until the next time I need walking.

Oliver Fisher