not your dog

it was her dog that had to be
put down
not his
He only saw the good boy for the past
two weeks or so

Yet it was him who couldn’t
get it up
in bed because thoughts of the
departed good boy wouldn’t
let go of
his mind

“I’m sorry,” he told her, hands
covering his face
in shame. “I just can’t.
I... I feel we should dedicate this day
to mourning, you know?”

“What?”

“Babe, you know how much I love
dogs. The death of
one... It, it just kills me, you know?”

She looked around for
her panties. “Well, babe, I start to think
you love ‘em dogs more than
you love me, really.”

“Wah? How can you...?”

“Well, I mean, if you didn’t
you’d want to comfort me in this time
of need. It’s what I want, what
I need to cope with the loss. But you’re
not thinking about that, are you? No,
all you’re thinking about is
the dog. It wasn’t even
your dog. You didn’t grow up
with it, damn you!”

They hugged each other and
cried on each other’s shoulder. Cried for
the rest of the night

A few days later
she came into the bedroom wearing
a furry dog-themed outfit
with ears and all
Same color as the one who had been put down

He got it up, alright

Many thanks to LatinosUSA —English edition for featuring my poem, "not your dog"!

Check it out HERE!

Thank you!