Her coat is nothing like those dogs' in ads. QVC gems hold more green than her eyes. If coal is black, well then her flanks are soot. If hairs be wires, then wires invade my couch. I've seen greyhounds that race like thoroughbreds. No such greyhound exists in my dog's gait. And in some alleys on trash day the smell Is more inviting than her cat-poop breath. I love the moo-ing sounds she makes asleep, But nails on chalkboards best her shrill whine. And no epitome of grace is she: When her long tail is wagged, mayhem occurs. And yet, on Earth, no friend I've ever had Has given devoted love like my dog.