I wish he wouldn't look at me Like I was God. It puts me in such misery To use the rod.
Like when he chewed my Sunday hat, Then cringed in shame, And mutely begged me to see that It was just a game.
His soulful eyes were full of tears. What could I say? Only what I’ve been saying for years; "Aw, it's okay."
I just can't punish love like his; It would be unfair. What small price my torn clothing is For love so rare!
A dog owner confesses a problem: she can't bring herself to discipline her dog. The trouble starts with how he looks at her, as if she were God, which makes the idea of reaching for "the rod" feel almost unbearable. The poem's example is a chewed Sunday hat. The dog cringes, then pleads with his eyes, trying to say it was only a game. She gives in, as she has done "for years," with a weary, affectionate "Aw, it's okay."
The speaker feels both tenderness and a kind of gentle helplessness. She knows she should be stricter, but his devotion disarms her, and she decides the cost of ruined clothes is small next to "love so rare." The mood is warm and lightly comic, built on simple rhymes and a chatty tone. Underneath the humor is something sincere: the idea that unconditional love is worth more than a good hat.