Big Stupid Dog
The dog was big and pointless.
It was a big, stupid, pointless dog.
It does nothing well,
said the boy,
nothing that a dog should do.
It does not bark properly.
It does not run with speed or grace.
It does not chew the legs off burglars,
or even raise the alarm
when strangers come.
The boy was embarrassed
when friends talked about their dogs
and what they could do
and they asked about his
and he had to tell them.
When someone new comes to the door,
said the boy,
someone unknown,
someone who could be dangerous,
the dog lollops down the hall,
makes that noise,
not a bark, not a howl,
no, it makes a sound
like a lairy, hairy man,
laughing deep in his beard,
that noise,
and he lollops idiotically down the hall
like a circus clown in a dog suit
and stands on his hind legs
and licks the face
of stranger danger.
It is a useless dog,
the boy would say.
It has no sense at all.
The boy would sigh
and turn away,
though there was a smile on his face.
The only thing the
big stupid dog
could ever really do well
was make the boy
happy.