Love has never been easy for anyone.

To expect it to run to you,
a puppy wagging its tail,
nose twitching,
jumping up on you and kissing your face
is a misappropriation of one of the most exclusively human emotions.

Love isn’t a puppy,
it’s a dog that cowers in the corner
when people go to the shelter,
not expecting to get picked.

But you bent down and said you wanted it.
That one. That mangy mutt.
The dog came slowly,
not trusting easily,
walking one paw at a time
as slowly as we all fall in love.

You took it on walks,
petted it, groomed it,
kissed it and let it kiss you back.

It grew on you.

But it gets under your feet,
trying to trip you when you’re carrying food
so that you’ll tumble down
and it can take everything you have.

Sometimes, while on a walk,
it’ll take the leash
and drag you through the park
as you laugh
and yell at it to stop.

You’ll swat it on the nose when it gets in your food,
nosing open the cabinets into your cereal
biting open your Cheerios
and spilling them all over the floor.

But no matter what fresh hell it’s dragged you through,
you curl up with it every night,
cheek to jowl.