This poem that started me thinking isn't about dogs or a dog, but it uses 'dog' as a metaphor, and the poem is also set out, cleverly, in the shape of a dog.
It all got me thinking about one of the dogs in my life, a schnauzer bred by my husband Graham and I. This lovely dog had a habit that could have killed him, but his death came when his habit could have saved him, if he could have got loose.
Poor Oscar, and poor Oscar's family. A fine dog gone, but never forgotten.
The gene for escape was born with him
lurking in his DNA.
Show him a fence, he had to try it,
try himself, prove his ability.
Leap and run
was his private joy -
he loved his home, but he loved to roam,
it was his need, his greed.
He had to see what was out there
waiting for him.
The house was a safe place though -
he couldn’t escape from there,
so when the fire jumped the walls,
leapt into the house
there was no escape for Oscar.