Shop for Dogs

Plays with them while you are at work.

You already know what is in them.

Something to think about instead of the bath.

Because the bags are always in the other coat.

Covers the coat, so the sofa stays clean.

The one they can wear round the house.

For the ones who shiver on the doorstep.

Four legs covered, so the towel stays on its hook.

Food and water, both at the right angle.

Turns a thirty-second meal into a five-minute one.

Running water is the one they will actually drink.

Sits at the angle their neck actually wants.

Takes the pull out of the walk.

Ten minutes of calm, spread thin.

Fifteen minutes of nose work for a bowl of kibble.

Muddy paws sorted at the back door.

A light on the quick, so you can see where to stop.

Off the cat, off the sofa, off your jumper.

The layer that saves the sofa.

The tracker sits in the collar, not on it.

Your back seat, permanently off the hook.

A drink on the walk, without the mess.

Wrap them up. Skip the towel wrestling.

Grit, salt and scalding pavements, handled.

All the shaking. None of the confetti.

Visible long before headlights find them.

Rewards in a half-second, not a fumble.

The dental job dogs will actually sit through.

Twelve compartments, four spinning layers, one meal.

Warm, dry, and on in five seconds.

A bed and a cave, depending on the mood.

On in one step, before they change their mind.

A double-pin buckle that will not creep loose.

Dinner that rolls away from them.

A puzzle you can make harder as they learn.

A meal they have to work their way around.

Press the button and the fur lets go.

Three metres of rope, one thumb on the brake.

Cold without a fridge, a plug or a fan.

Grooved, hollow and loud enough to be worth the effort.

Clips into the buckle your car already has.

A light behind the nail, so you can see the quick.

Cotton that flosses while they pull.

Open at the front, so they can pant and drink.

A hopper that tops the bowl up as they eat.

Pick it up without bending down.

Solid rubber, so it bounces wrong on purpose.

A small blade for the fiddly bits.

No stuffing to pull out and spread round the room.

Ties on, washes, costs nothing to replace.

They can still eat, drink and see past it.

Covers the wound instead of blocking the head.

One sound that always means the same thing.

Ninety centimetres between your hand and their teeth.

Lead and collar in one piece of rope.

Soak it, wring it, put it on.

Ties on, comes off, done.

For the ones who will not wear a costume.

Warm enough to still be worn in November.

Eight legs, none of them theirs.

Charges under a lamp, glows for a while, then stops.

Jewellery, not a collar. The difference matters.

The one everybody recognises instantly.

Twenty seconds of hat, and that is the point.

Ten designs, thirteen centimetres, one evening.

Two straps, no fabric on the body.

A hood, not a hat. Read that again.

A cape with a hood, which changes things.

Front legs only, hat attached.

Open underneath, which is the whole idea.

One piece, pulled on over the head.

Clips the coat and swallows the fur before it lands.

Throws until they stop, not until your arm does.

Body, face, paws and nails, on one handle.

Drags the fur out of the weave. No refills, ever.