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photo by Westbee Photography

I loved you
before I even knew you.
I’d whisper little boy names to the ceiling,
mind already reeling with adventures to come
but.

I met you
in a basement in Branson
Missouri. I admired how you watched the Man.
No treats, some sniffs, one quick piss, a couple tail wags
then

We drove you
home in our arms. You’re perfect,
you know this, you slept and cuddled the whole time.
Such an easy rider, the calm before the shit
storm.

On Day Three
you want to bite so badly
that we have to trap your head between our legs.
Your favorite treat is human flesh.
We hide our shoes, our food, our clothes, our towels,
everything you touch is mauled to shreds.
You drink water so fast, you chug then you puke
then race me to clean up the vomit.
I dream of strangling you in your sleep.

STAY means RUN.
This is your favorite game,
frolicking around the backyard while I cry
then plead then scream for you to please just come back
inside.

After Day
One Hundred and Forty-Two,
just when we thought the demon had subsided…
you develop a taste for berber carpet.
Custom window sills.
Door frames.
Shoelaces.
Poo.
Yes, poo of all kinds.
Deer poo, horse poo,
your own poo sometimes.
You like to chase small children
and freak out at any animal you see,
so much so that we needed
therapy.

You dick dog,
just when I thought I couldn’t
take this anymore, our therapist introduced me
to eCollar Technologies. And now mother f*r,

You listen to me.