The Perfect Spot

The Perfect Spot


So many mornings, dog and I, out in the cold and dew,

Me, longing for a warm bed or hot tea pot,

yet here I am, out again. So, I ask you,

What constitutes the perfect spot.


For miles, you sniff each dewy grass blade,

each tree, each shrub, each and every dirt clop,

all rejected, none will do. I ask, nerves frayed,

What constitutes the perfect spot?


Yet, bent to avoid shame in the ring,

we walk as I try to conjure the criteria,

must another dog been here to have its fling,

or must no dog have ever used this area?


Early this morning, you finally do tell,

the answer, oh Reader, believe it or not,

to the question (and an end to morning hell?)

What constitutes the perfect spot?


You say, I, wee ancient cairn may only poop or pee,

if dinosaurs have tread upon this plot,

and that is why the ritual and formality

is needed ‘fore I bless the perfect spot.


By: Dionne M. Blaesing

Belmont Cairns

Copyright 1996