He felt a nagging ache
on the outside of his right
foot
only to realize he
had popped a bunionette.
Now, isn’t that cute?
But oh, how he would like
such misery to forget.
He mumbled that the
aging process is
for the birds
when he heard
his feet exclaim,
“Forget that bird song.
What about us old dogs?
The birds just peep, but
we will be howling
in sympathy as
you limp along.”
He guessed a point
was made by his
loyal pups.
Until he could have
surgery, he’d give them
relief with hideous
things called drug store
bunionette cups.
He just can’t give
up on his loyal pups.
For twenty-six thousand
miles running, they have
been there every step
along the way.
Forty-five years of
jogging and that ain’t
hay.
So, he’s good to the
old dogs even if
they now howl
instead of bark all
day.