My Senior Years

My doctor said that I should get a dog.

“A Labrador retriever would be best,

but any dog that’s active will be fine.

Will keep you active. Walk it every day.”

 

I got a phone call just the other day,

A telemarketer who asked me if

I was a member of our local gym.

I said I wasn’t. “Would you like to join?

We have a special package just for you.

I’m sure you know that keeping active is

Important when you’re in your senior years.”

Just what the hell is that supposed to mean?

“My senior years!” You’re just a little girl,

and yes, I know you’ve been around

for your entire life, and you have reached

a quarter century and feel you’re old,

mature, sophisticated. And you are,

I guess, for twenty-five. I used to think

The same. My senior years! You haven’t got

A clue. My senior years. And what is that

Supposed to mean? “Oh let me help you, sir,

To walk across the street. I’m sure that you

Can’t make it on you own since you’re so old.”

 

I got a dog. She walks me every day.

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