You look out the window at our Duke Street rental.
You run down the hall to greet us.
You lay in our laps, lick our faces and sleep under covers.
You are innately curious, a sign of intelligence as grandmother used to say.
You chewed the wooden buttons off my Ecuadorian Wool Sweater, the self-same sweater that Carol said she felt rich in when I lent it to her to wear on the cold patio at an outdoor eatery where people had gathered, it seems like ages ago, to talk. The same sweater the puppies pulled from the back of a kitchen chair to lay on. And even though you chewed off those buttons (replaceable,how?), you still have wormed your way into my heart (what is a button anyway..)
From a frightened, little dog, you have become in your time with us, a playful, happy pup!
You are, as always, Pierre the Great!
a little gassy, but great!
"A man may smile and bid you hail
Yet wish you to the devil;
But when a good dog wags his tail
You know he's on the level."