Six months ago,
Her first full day here,

She caught us off guard.
We dropped the leash in our half-asleep
And she took off gleefully, wildly,
Circling endlessly,
Tasting freedom,
Evading capture.

Then, smelling a particularly interesting stench
She found a pile and dove into it back first,
Rolling, rolling, rolling,
Intent like a lover in the throes of ecstasy,
Darting away when I approached,
Locating another pile of poopy pleasure.

Finally, at this pause in the chase,
We were able to scoop her up, holding tightly despite the stink,
And carry her firmly in for her first bath.

Four months ago,

She slipped out between
Legs standing in the doorway
Escaping a vibration of frustration in the air,
Racing through several yards  in a frantic feral frenzy,
Alarming a cat-loving neighbor to screech in the exact timbre of Dr. Evil’s Frau Farbissina,
“It’s supposed to be on a leash!” 
Pausing only  to scarf down half a dozen stale bagels a couple at a time,
Prancing just past our reach as she ran the maze around us 
Returning to more gluttony with bagels.

Then she ran to a ditch and assumed
A certain hunch-backed position
With front feet tucked far back.

Finally, at this pause in the chase
We were able to move in,
Grab her collar, scoop her up once she’d finished her business
And carry her firmly in to spend some time in her pen.

Last week,

She sidled out when we opened the door.
We hustled to gather dog-fishing supplies
Only to discover her
 Laying calmly on our front sidewalk.
Surveying her outdoor domain

Then she simply stood up,
And sauntered back into the house.

Finally, there was no cause to chase
I guess the warm weight curled on my feet
Has decided
We’re really hers now.
I smile as I recall
I don’t even like dogs.