Daisy goes to the spa

she was an unwilling participant
in her beauty routine, perfectly
happy with her Rasta do and long nails.
I scolded her for letting herself go.
Just getting older is no excuse;
we sat on the front porch and
worked on her hair first, patiently
working the finest teeth of my comb
through her dark undercoat.
Her pedicure followed, combing her
hocks and cutting her nails.
She looked great after all, that, and
I’m sure she felt better, too.