He knew he was in trouble some small section of his doggy brain reminded him - you ragged the sofa the armchair his shoes. His soul was soft through his brown eyes. I suffer from separation anxiety he said I can’t help what I do it’s like ADHD or something What could I say to him? I should’ve left the radio on but he’s never told me which station he likes.
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Glad to see you exploring some persona poetry, my friend.
You should read Billy Collins' "Walking My Seventy-Five-Year-Old Dog" from his collection Whale Day.