Dog Walking

My three dogs
Never do what I want them to do
When I take them for a walk.
When I steer them to go left,
They want to go right.
When I want them to hurry up
And cross the street
Because we have the light,
They decide to pause
Or sometimes poop
In the crosswalk.
They manage to step on
Every piece of broken glass.
They hunt for and find
Chicken and pork chop bones,
Tea bags, candy wrappers and bubble gum
Which I then must extricate
From between clenched jaws.

One morning, I lose it.
"What's wrong with you guys?"
I am demanding from my dogs
In the middle of the street
At 6:40 AM.
"Why can't you ever just do
What I want or tell you to do?
Why are you always doing
Bad things?
I'm telling you what to do
To protect you,
Not to ruin your good time!"

The words leave me
And even as I am processing
What I just said,
I can hear that Gentle, Cosmic Laugh
That is not my own
Rise up within me.

The analogies
Are not lost on me.

"Ha ha, okay, God.
Very funny.
You got me."

The dogs stare at me
With their big, liquid eyes,
Wondering why I am
Freaking out and talking to myself aloud.

I love my dogs to bits,
But sometimes I want to cry,
They frustrate me so!

Father,
Is this a glimpse
Into how crazy we must drive You?

Point taken...