Stanley’s truly a remarkable animal
half scent hound half dromedary camel
with really quite an extraordinary facility
for marking everything in the vicinity

his bladder must be a five gallon keg
the number of times he lifts his leg
or maybe he draws from some other place
defying the laws of time and space
his urethra employing some weird extension
to a reservoir in another dimension

but I digress
I guess
he just tops up
whenever talk of a nice walk pops up

and if you’re sitting there wondering
exactly where he’s wandering
and squandering
the contents
of his urinary tract
I’ll write it all down so you can read it back:

a fine pot of blue hydrangeas
a sign that tells you where the fire hydrant is
a graffitied garage shutter
a heavy duty drain cover
a temporary sign with the number of a plumber
an electricity substation fence
a noticeboard with local events
a lamppost (rapturously)
a waste bin (naturally)
every size and variety of shrub
the wall outside the after school club
a hill made by a mole
an unfilled hole
temporarily filled with trash
all prayerfully sniffed and blessed with a slash

every street name on the usual route
including Stanley Avenue (cute)
every phone booth
(okay – I lied about them
since mobile phones you never see ‘em)
a telegraph pole
whose sole
purpose
seems to be to serve us
both as a means of cable control
but also to hold
signs that advertise more lost cats
scratch Messiahs, stuff like that
(and recently a poster from the anti-vaxxers
which Stanley addressed with some well-aimed splashes)

so all in all
what with every wall
tree trunk big and rose bush small
every junction box
a roadside flowerbed of snapdragons and phlox
and a line of hefty granite rocks
to discourage parking
every chainsaw carving
every charging point for the on-street charging
of bougie electrical vehicles
every traffic stop and crossing signal
every structure man made or natural
vertical, horizontal or diagonal
like I say, he’s phenomenal
his capacity plentiful
his diligence incredible
Stanley is truly exceptional
an absolute master of the art of micturition
like a long-legged, shaggy-haired renal magician
with a never-ending bladder that just keeps filling
or a distillery that mysteriously keeps distilling
even when the water’s turned off
but that’s enough
I won’t go on
he’s a premier league piss artist, and so on

no ifs, no buts

it’s just all the constant stopping drives me nuts