Doggo

You have come back to me in the delirium of sleep. My thrashing about signals your tenderness of your approach, but who taught you how to leap over a poison syringe? Is this the work of Louisiana come to avenge herself upon me? After all, I have trafficked you from a beautiful farm estate onto a jet plane to fix my ruin. Instead of importing repair, I unwittingly spread my damage. Trotting innocence was never meant to withstand the mental termites of a bad tree. Being subjected to artificial lights and cubed living quarters did not make for a kind gesture, nor was it the best introduction to domestic life. In my absence, you fled the ire of giants that looked upon your stay as a favor to me. Yet, you rewarded irritability with curious play. In time, the elder giants accepted your silent witness as a new and indispensable peace. I plied you with a variety of toys and cured meats. Every breed had the pleasure of racing you. Did I not take you up hills and through creeks? Your prolonged investigations into the bush were allowed, most times against my better judgement. Familiar with the claw marks of obsession, I let you be carried away with little interference. You became a mirror image of both my strengths and habitual ills. Everything I gave you became an elaborate obstacle course that led back to me. Every experience crafted for your enjoyment was a strong current you swam against to reach dry land, and I was that shore. Now, when the handsome prospects of this life dwindle, I can make out a faint click-clacking of untrimmed nails on linoleum. My ears are pricked by seven sniffs reset by two bothersome puffs outward. How could the most consistent face of a decade plus now become a fleeting dream crasher? Let me put my forehead to yours. And if I rub your full belly once more, it will not end in a dietary restriction. It never did. You divided my dinner table perfectly. We chewed our food at the same time. For all of this, you kept a secret from me deep inside your body. Out of nowhere, stubborn pounds melted away and lethargy resisted medicine. Standing became a chore; your hind legs crossing when not failing altogether. And now I am caught trying to leash a memory.