That scrawny little black and white dog shits on my front lawn.
It wanders the street, without a lead or human companionship and it craps and urinates and cocks its leg wherever it chooses.
That dog does what it wants.
There’s no grey and in between, he knows what he thinks and it matches his coat.
I saw him today, tap, tap, tapping along the concrete footpath.
I was sitting poorly at my writing desk with one eye typing and the other exploring the life outside of my home. The contents of everything else, condensed within my window frame, reminded me of all the places I wasn’t.
I wondered about his thoughts.
He wandered around my neighbourhood.
I knew a dog.
He tapped along too and showed me passion with a bite and always suggested that he might: like me.
But he was human.
He taught me things – like new tricks and old dog statistics and how to bark, when you want it and need it so bad.
He was loyal sometimes, all paws and potential. But he ran away. And hasn’t come back.
I still miss him, so much so that it hurts in my heart and sometimes when I walk, I wish he were beside me.
He growled at me once and I know I deserved it and he made me feel like a silly bitch, running in circles and chasing my own tail.
But it was fun.
I’m a smart breed; you can teach me new tricks really quickly, but of course, I also learn the naughty stuff well too.
Yes, that old game.
I have fine manners, but I’m easily distracted.
I am one of those types.
Like a dog with a bone.
And I will love you forever, even if you don’t play with me anymore.
It’s ok; I know how to deal with it.
I will bury it, like all of the other things. Trouble is, I can never set it so deep that it can’t be touched again.
So, I will try to do that.
I will eat you.