A Brown Dog

A Poem

Daniela Dragas
Scribe

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Pip, the brown dog caught laughing by the friend’s camera!

On Sundays, my friend comes to visit
he brings a brown dog and packets of treats;
for the dog and for me.

I watch them climb the stairs
the dog pulling, charging to the top,
remembering I live behind the green and red door, and sometimes
I, too, have treats;

a piece of a dark sausage, a golden half of a chip, a translucent slice of fish flesh, soft and tangy,

and so the bushy white tail rises and waves announcing friendly intentions, like a signaller on the high-seas, right paw lifted as a salute, my hand licked as a seal, moist, pleading eyes fixated on mine as if saying;

here — it is all I have, and have given it all to youit is your turn now

and so I go to the kitchen to fetch the treats, as
the dog’s breath warms the back of my legs,
its bright, soft face uplifted to mine,
knowing what everyone knows —

a man and a dog are a company.

Thank you for reading.

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