A poem.

This is not exactly on-topic, I am including it anyway. My relationship with our dog is definitely a dance, although it is more scored improvisation than it is a set choreography. So here, for your enjoyment, is the first of a series.

Dog Poem #1

It was because you did not pay attention
When I sat on the couch, waiting for you. 
I don’t know what the thing was,
I know that you probably wanted it. 
Or maybe I made a mistake, because you wanted something like this yesterday,

So today I took this one hostage. 
And perhaps you didn’t want it at all.
I found it on the floor. 

Actually I didn’t. 

Actually the puppy left her backpack open and I fished it out when you weren’t looking,
But that’s not the part that’s important. 

What’s the most upsetting is that you didn’t even notice the rustling when I was digging around  in her bag that she always leaves open when she gets home, 
Even when you tell her to zip it up
Because the dog might get into it. 


I’m an opportunist when it comes to love. 
I’m transactional that way. 
I sit. I get a snack.
You come to the couch and scratch my belly
and I do not chew up things that you want. 

Or fluffy, white things. 
I love those - bits of that stuff you write on
Or put up to your nose and make that weird barking sound. 
I have learned that you are really okay when you do that.
It’s just disturbing.

Now I sit here in a pile of lovely white fluff,
Bits of wood and paper,
Waiting for you.

You must come to the couch.

The window in the front of the house is open
Men with fur on their faces and scary things on their heads walk by all the time.

If you do not come to the couch
I cannot guarantee your safety.