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The Dog Days of February
She wasn’t just annoying,
But dumb as well
And nagging
And blah. But, maybe
Just maybe
She made some sense
In asking him to walk that
Dumb brown dog.
Screen door screeching open
Pit-pat of paws on the path
Marking a self-supported walk
Tracing a grove in the ice
Licking his already wet nose,
The dog knows the ice
The dog knows the snow
He doesn’t know
That the day happens to fall upon
The date de naissance of some
Now long deceased man
And never really has the chance
To look up at the night sky
And know
And realize
The existence of a planetoid
Named after a fictional character
Of his own species
Now having much less
Scientific significance
Preceding a public outroar
Nor does he know that
Today happens to be
The seventeenth day-i-versery
Of the boy walking beside him
Getting dumped,
again
And as such-as with
The Fifteenth
And Sixteenth-
He was planning on staying home alone
From school sans permission
“Arf” escapes a small yelp
When the boy is jerked back
(To reality) as the dog jerks back
On the leash,
Jordan nearly being struck
By a car
The puppy looking up
With eyes, quite like
Those with which
Jordan’s mother glanced
When she found Jordan
In his room,
Wrists slightly bloodied
And those of his therapist
Later that day
After hearing exigence
“Another ill-relationship?”
But Mr Puppy
Knew nothing of
Seasonal Depression
Situational Depression
Or anything of the such
He did however
Know much about
Marking his territory
And
Primping his paws dry
On the towel upon reentry
To his home
Curling up in bed with Jordan
And awaiting his next smile.
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I don't have a dog, and I don't suffer from seasonal depression.
This is my memoir.