An Ode To Ryder
O Fluffy Walking Rug,
you are always underfoot,
nearby and keenly aware of our Comings & Goings.
You like car rides,
chasing presidential cats
and chewing wooden blocks.
When we come back home after a short excursion
there is neither creature nor man who has ever greeted us more enthusiastically.
I wish chickens were boring to you
and I wish your beard never got dirty.
I wish your barks were silenced after midnight
and you never got car sick.
But I’ve seldom loved a dog as I love you.
I like your hairy face, gentle eyes and companionable silence.
The way your dog eyes watch me walk from room to room –
always assuring yourself I’ll be back around soon.
Waiting across every room’s threshold to be certain I cannot escape unnoticed.
You make me laugh
and your company is to be preferred over many people I know.
You probably need a haircut but I’m a little attached to your shaggy unkempt habits.
I like you Ryder.
You are just a dog,
a canine.
An animal of the furriest variety.
But
you feel like family.
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