Care and Feeding

Because I will turn 420 tomorrow

In dog years

I will take myself for a long walk

along the green shore of the lake,



and when I walk in the door,

I will jump on my chest

and lick my nose and ears and eyelids

while I tell myself again and again to get down.



I will fill my metal bowl at the sink

with cold fresh water,

and lift a biscuit from the jar

and hold it gingerly with my teeth.



Then I will make three circles

and lie down at my feet on the wood floor

and close my eyes

while I type all morning and into the afternoon,



checking every once in a while

to make sure I am still there,

reaching down

to stroke my furry, venerable head.