I entrained our recently ailing
dog down the steps,
along the walk
out to the grassy area
that fronts the desert association
for purposes of non-desert aesthetics
in keeping with the resort across
the street
at a time I am normally asleep
so the dog might
take care of business at three
in the dead of night.
I had heard him panting and assumed
I’d better get him out the door
before something unpleasant
was placed on the condo floor.
No emergency like five days
before,
no, just a short pee
and perhaps a slow walk till four.
I walked him back to the condo and he
headed to bed
and then I thought…
in spite of the hour, what a treat
it was to walk my dog
under the lights of the street,
through a fog, which didn’t
exist, as it did in Casablanca,
but which, nevertheless, bode suspense
and ghostly, nocturnal adventures
in store
and would have, without brave dog
by my side,
caused fright
even more
in the dead of night
and which, adventure or not,
thankfully didn’t last till four.