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I am a passionate believer in self expression. Whether it's through food, art, writing, venting one's spleen, talking loud, wearing a big hat, etc...
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Oh the years we’ve been spending together in our complicated relationships: You’ve most definitely had your piece of cake and eaten it too.
For all the times I’ve come home from a long distance, and had the fear you’d have forgotten our fun, there has been no reason to worry worry. Within that snarl is a long awaited hello and a negotiation of places in the household.
You know never to ask me for what you should never have; for that you have the rest of the family.
Your muzzle licks and nips my chin, lips, ears and head, but without anger or threat: such a tender Snoops. I am home and welcome.
Should I take you for a long walk? You’ll raise a claw to tap me and encourage me not to relent; I’d not relent boy.
I see you nestled on the sofa, but you like company in your dreams mister dog and you bark at me and tell me you would like to feel protected and safe.
While you chase rabbits or cats in your slumber or splash spray in a summer mist or we climb to the top o’er Lime Kiln Lane and you excitedly show you’re free or in a crowd of bullocks you scarper because I tell you so(you want to return, but can not) or run with a gamut of barley heads like waves in the sea your nose shows high. Everyday, my boy, is the miracle of your simple happiness; but I dare say you verily hate the pong you daily produce which is a byproduct of your existence. Run from that warm, acrid pile you have left, with instructions, deep in the undergrowth; run ‘shit’ scared.
Forever the stars will remember your name: master of silhouettes in satin greyness and a runner of fleetfoottedness falling four paws upon the expectant soil.
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