They'll Take One Well Behaved Dog

Not you then, with your habit
of going through bins, the way you take
yoghurt pots tipped up on your snout
like tiny nosebags, creep into your bed
and we hear the slide of your meaty tongue
round and round. Not you who lies in wait
for posties with the inner letterbox flapped up
your jaws primed, sprung. Not you
with your way of squaring up to Dobermen
like you have a fighting chance.
Your stiff legged walk at the outer limit
of the lead, the collar makes you cough.
We'll holiday without you, leave you here
and while you're lying chin on paws, doleful
take time to reflect - one well behaved dog
would be larking on the Yorkshire Moors right now.
Wouldn't it.