"The Inconsolable Dog" - David Noah
Last night the dog got drunk
and peed on the dead Christmas tree,
maybe a sly hint that October
is late for Christmas.
I hate it when he drinks.
He tries to do tricks but just falls down,
and slobbers all over me
while we watch old movies from the eighties.
I tell him life is unfair.
He howls and lays his head in my lap—
which is unnerving,
especially if you’re trying really hard
not to remember something important—
because it’s not easy
to cultivate amnesia
when an inconsolable dog is weeping in your crotch.
I promise him treats,
swear we’ll go to the park,
but he laughs the way only
a shit-faced dog can laugh,
which is to say,
like a bitter heartbroken animal,
with a collar around his neck.
What can I do but open another bottle,
pour it over the Kibble and Bits in his bowl,
and put on Howlin’ Wolf—
that’s his favorite—
while snow dribbles out of the television
and the cat rolls another joint.
[above: self-portrait by David Noah]