Frankie and Chester

Frankie and Chester,
Our two Cocker Spaniels,
Are sad-eyed, droopy-jowled,
Black and white angels.

We feed them and pat them
And walk them about,
But other than that
They just mostly hang out.

They sniff at the postman,
Trail after my wife,
Nap, and chew dog toys...
A boring dog’s life.

They bark on occasion
And less often growl,
But what they love most
Is a good family HOWL.

I learned this one evening
When, just on a whim,
And for no good reason
I lifted my chin,

And I HOWLED... not an
Ear-splitting bellow,
Just a falsetto note
Kind of foxy and mellow.

And Frankie and Chester
Jumped up all agog,
Delighted to hear
Dummy Dad speaking dog.

And they ran to my chair
And sat at my knee
And raised up their chins
And we HOWLED... all three.

We HOWLED for a minute,
And I say without lying,
All three of us found
It was so satisfying

That we knew in an instant
While still HOWLING there
That we’d just have to make it
A family affair.

So about once a week
I start clearing my throat,
And the dogs both come running
To hear my first note.

Then I yip a nice yip
And a coyote yowl,
And the three of us sit there together
And HOWL.

Then we shake out our ears
When we’ve banished the blues
And go back to our naps,
Our dog toys and the news.

HOWLING is healthy.
It airs out your lungs.
It stretches your spine,
And it opens your bungs.

It cleanses your larynx,
And wakens your bowel.
It’s better than Yoga!
And it’s free! C’mon, HOWL!

When we lift up our heads
And bay at the moon,
We’re making dog music.
It may have no tune,

But it sings, nonetheless,
To the gentle canine...
Like Chester and Frankie...
A music divine.

In HOWLING, you must get your
Tongue, jowl and jaw in.
And PRACTICE! You know, to keep
Your dog paw in.

Once, our HOWL-harmony
Was going so fine
That I thought I detected
The dog AULD LONG SYNE!

And recently... maybe
Just in my dream...
I swear we howled DOWN
BY THE OLD MILL STREAM.

And THE LONG AND WINDING ROAD?
Yup! The Beatles we do!
Cuz the dog road is a long
And windy one too.

And when Frankie and Chester go
To The Great Dog Beyond,
And I’m older and crabby,
More foolish and fond,

I’ll pack up their kennels,
Their collars and leashes,
Their blankets and dog toys,
And even their ashes,

BUT I’ll save out some trinket,
Some old plastic bone,
And, waiting to join them,
I’ll HOWL... all alone.