← v15n2, Fall 2016
Poetry · Volume 15, Number 2

The Truth Dog

Among ugly dogs, he had few peers.

His one eye possessed an evil glint, so say

the authorities, though some who knew him

claim never to have noticed it. Others

deny that the animal had special powers,

though from an early age

he was known as the Truth Dog,

the Dog Who Could Detect Any Lie,

from the merest white slip of a white

to the blackest secret ever held.

You had to hold him to get the full effect,

but even petting him could be enough.

With a man who lied every day of his life,

the dog simply bit, and bit hard;

but mostly you had to tell the lie

to get a reaction. Then the dog would growl,

deep in his throat; if you told the lie again

he would bark, twice, sharply. Once a lie

was so awful, he leapt from the boy’s arms

and was not seen for two weeks.

Many wanted him put to sleep, even an owner

or two (he never lasted long in any house—

the wife or husband always had a few secrets,

and the dog plainly didn’t like secrets).

One preacher tried to poison him, and an actress

of impeccable character tried to run him down

with her car. Those who offered to buy him

included a criminal or two,

and a fat producer who tried to make him

the star of reality television. The sitcom lasted

only two seasons and starred some has-been.

The dog put up with all the fuss

for the sake of an occasional beef bone

and a blue rubber-ball he was fond of.

One day he simply disappeared.

Some say the Mafia kidnapped him,

others that the CIA wanted to train

dolphins to do what the poor dog

did artlessly, and with perfect accuracy,

so far as anyone knows.