Poem #27/30- Dog Days

April is National Poetry Month. This year, I've chosen "Dog Days" as my theme. Almost every day this month (I accidentally missed one day and I'm really sad about breaking my string) I will be writing a poem about dogs. We are nearing the end of the month, and I'm having a harder time writing. Today's topic is teeth. It never quite came together, but at some point,  a poet has to give up and go to bed. 

"Chompers"

At three or four weeks, twenty-eight  teeth
force their way through pink gums,
life at milk bar is over, 
carnivore-hood has begun. 
These sharp little milk teeth help puppies explore,
that wide open mouth is a puppy's front door.

Next, come the adult teeth,
the count's forty-two,
(ten more than humans),
check, and it's true.

Twelve incisors (six on top, six on bottom),
in wild, these scrape flesh from bone,
but their tamer domestic cousins
use them to fetch toys when they're thrown.

Premolars, 
four on top, and four below,
these are the workers
they chew and they chew.

Then the molars,
ten of these guys,
two on top, three on bottom ,
grind grass and plants, break down protein,
used to keep the dog from choking.

Last but not least,
canines, fangs
the longest ones,
the teeth that hang,
the teeth we fear,
the teeth that leave marks
when a dog bites,
but really they are
supposed to be used
for picking up
and holding,
only four of those.

Forty two teeth
chomp, chew, and bite,
people who hate dogs
find these a fright.