Dog whisperer

They find you wherever
you search old sheds,
parks, the city streets –

the lost
the abandoned
the homeless

Like a kind pied piper
a whistle for a flute
you’d pick them up

round a shiver of fur
and the way home, come come
what a good boy

then in the dim kitchen
you put up a soak
to scrub and soap

a bony thing, feel
how it heaves
and drags under your touch

for weeks you are savior and nurse
your patience and skill
changing a bundle of fear

with soft words, the pledge
of a full water bowl, marrow bones,
crunchy crusts

you’d stroke a knotty back
with knowing fingers
mouthing again and again

into wet ears,
it’s ok, girl,
ok, ok,

wake in the night
to a scratch and a howl
throw a blanket over all this anguish

sometimes you’re stared at on end,
your guests
don’t move, don’t bark

their will leaking from them
like a dripping tap
their eyes clouding over

but then again
most will follow you
lap up your whispered words,

ears pricked, tail awag
tapping into your unique energy
full of boundless bounce.