
Morning starts with a slobbery kiss,
an alarm clock of fur and enthusiasm.
Coffee brews while you wag your tail,
watching me fumble for socks
like a man on a scavenger hunt he never agreed to.
The leash jingles, your ears perk.
You’re a meteor of excitement,
dragging me into the world,
where squirrels rule the kingdom
and mail trucks are sworn enemies.
You sniff every blade of grass
like a sommelier evaluating fine wine.
"Ah yes," your face says,
"2019 Labrador, notes of tennis ball and mischief."
Meanwhile, I hold your leash
like a contestant in a strength competition.
At lunch, you beg with eyes so big
I could drown in them.
One sandwich for me, one accidental crumb for you,
and suddenly, you’re the king of the feast.
Your gratitude is sloppy and endless.
Afternoon naps are mandatory—
you on the couch, me on the chair,
snoring in perfect unison,
a symphony of bliss.
By evening, we’re a team of explorers again,
chasing sunsets and rogue frisbees,
finding joy in the simplest things.
You’re not just a dog;
you’re my partner in crime,
my fur-covered shadow,
the four-legged comedian
who makes life endlessly funny.




Comments (1)
Fantastic! Great work