I’m not a dog person.
I have a dog.
A perfect dog,
so it seemed
in the beginning.
Each year as he grows older,
and older,
and
older…
his non-barking willpower
grows weaker,
and weaker,
and
weaker :(
Perfect dogie no more.
Sometimes…
during a bad dogie barkathon
a cast stone statue
of man’s best friend
sitting by the food dish
content in all that materializes
in the complicated world
just beyond his nose
is so desperately
desired.
You know…
that perfect dog.
I'm just perfection misunderstood, mommy dearest :)
