dog food: a love poem

how many adult humans does it take to feed an 8-pound dog?

three.

one to baby-talk encouragement.

one to convey food in single bites, with spoon or fingers, directly to his mouth.

one to sit in the corner observing and writing snarky poetry about it.

no joke.

we take turns.

bonus points for airplane noises

or sneaking one in when he yawns.

he spits it out on the sofa cushions.

we hates him.

little shih tzu suffers from acid reflux

and indecision.

today he wants mommy to feed him,

but only three bites, and only in exactly

this spot on the back of the couch,

else the couch will eat him,

but his foot slips so

mommy must be trying to kill him

and he has to lick himself obsessively

to wash off the murder,

falls asleep

for five minutes

and arises a screaming hellbeast

wanting kibble

one kib at a time

from the palm of my hand.

he gnaws my fingers.

we hates him. so. much.

little fucker is terrified of rain, thunder,

dubstep, over-large chunks of wet food, precarious pillows, the folding of laundry, plastic bags, and the noises of his own stomach,

not to mention mine,

which rivals the world's most lively volcanoes in its seismic activity.

he sleeps on my belly

til borborygmus erupts

then runs tail-tucked like i hit him with a

cattle prod

wild and scraggled

all bugeyed horror underbite and fur.

he hates haircuts

until they're over

then princely prances his new do

like he didn't just threaten to

dismember his stylist

we hates him.

couch gremlin mountain goat.

squishface mcshitnugget.

tiny nightmare monsterdog

we hates him.

he shakes when he's scared.

violently.

uncontrollably.

when he's cold.

he sits up straight calm neck-stretched

for a sweater.

when his tummy is hurt

or too loud.

he shudders and pants in panic.

rides in a satchel,

slung over daddy's shoulder

or a scarf, nestled to mommy's chest.

pressed under a pillow,

a tiny doggy weighted blanket,

i sit fetal curled around him,

so fragile and fraught

til he calms

and demands to be fed again

just a bite

just one bite.

god, we hates him.