Straining at the Leash......

I've always been a bit of a Free Spirit kind of guy........
You know, a vacant lot, field or park and I'm Nirvana happy!
Nose to the ground, taking my time, policing the neighborhood.
And, what could be better than the open road, calling my name?
Trotting the highway, sniffing at leisure, chasing the occasional game?
Clint Eastwood style, riding the range and running cattle.....
Eyes squinted, ears perked, watchful for the next bad Hombre.....THAT'S my path.

OR, it would be, if it weren't for the LEASH!
I'm weaving and dodging, chasing tail and sniffing the high life, 
when suddenly.....YANK!.....I'm stopped cold in my tracks.....HUH?!?
Life's realities hit me like a ton of bricks.
I'm a DOG, on the end of a WAY too short leash.
Mom's dragging me sideways down the street and Sparky's squirrel friends
are laughing hysterically.....Really bad for my Macho image.
Sorry, Mom.
I'll admit it, rules have always made me queasy and I HATE the leash.
Though a star pupil in puppy school 
(I graduated top of my class 2007 at Lucky Dog University)
when it comes right down to it I'll pick the other side of the tracks every time.
Chalk it up to my Terrier heritage.....We answer the Call of the Wild!
But Mom is hollering her lungs out to S-T-O-P..... and I pause for a moment.
Ponder. Reflect.
Now..... what would Clint do??
MICK'S TIPS: Keep dreaming.