Poem About My Dog

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: August 31, 2018

A A A | A A A

Submitted: August 31, 2018






When you have disorders like these,

You don’t get a lot of quiet moments,

And I’m not talking about it being just ‘you and your thoughts’,

I mean, why would I want to be alone with them?

They are a party that I don’t want to be at,

All they can remind me of is every mistake I’ve ever made,

All they can tell me are the random moments I need hand sanitizer for no reason,

And how awkward it is pull out the bottle in class to prevent a panic attack,

And how I’m just awkward in general,

And how everyone hates me,  

Too awkward for anything in life,

Imagining how the car ride home could end tragically,

Ending my strife,

But I’d be pissed if I were to die young, right?

Yet at the same time, I say, “Who cares!? Let’s go faster! Easy peezy, sadness release me! So long!”

Am I having a heart attack!? I don’t know!

I can’t eat in public,

Rule number one: fool them into thinking you have friends that keep you busy on social media,

Don’t hide your dyslexia, they’ll mistake you for being an idiot,

But don’t come off as pathetic with your sad story of a life,

Rule number two: don’t go to them, let them come to you,

You don’t want to embarrass yourself, do you?

I’m too ugly, and fat, and unfunny, and untalented, and-

And then I see her,

I’m reminded that her fur holds my tears,

And she guards my over-bitten smiles,

My household ally,

Who is finally not some magnificent dude sitting in the sky,

She awakens the maternal instinct I will only have for those with fur,

The feeling clawing at my ribs,

Forcing my arms into open ones,

As she shapes into my baby names and coos,

The endless ‘I love you’s,

Her facial expressions are more defined than my resting bitch face features,

Even though she’s categorized as a creature,

She speaks a hell of a lot more than I dare to,

She can say please and thank you,

Maybe she’ll speak the language well soon,

She can break a toy and make do,

Complain that it was unfair too,

Through and through she can even say she’s sorry,

Which holds more humility than humanity,

She’s got a sense of humor,

Holding eighty-five pounds of clumsy,

I don’t curse her,

She’s strong enough to slap you from here to Jupiter,

A two hundred pound bite force weightless when the corners of her lips curl,

She’s so beautiful,

She’s albums of pictures I show first,

I’m so scared of losing her,

I sometimes dream about waking up and her not being here,

Or about something harming her,

At this point, I don’t know what it would do to me,

If I didn’t wake up with her nose in my cornea,

Sometimes, I skip plans just so I can go home to make sure she’s okay,

Running through stop lights and fumbling with my house keys,

I don’t know what it would do to me,

But I’m more afraid of losing her than myself,

Because how could I be so deserving of someone so genuine?

How could I be deserving of someone who will not only sit but stay?

I guess this is what it’s like to be the mother that I have no intention of being,

Because dogs don’t lie,

They’re not annoying or too needy,

They’re not a boy twice my size trying to yank me off a swing-set by the hood of my new coat,

They’re not a group of girls trash talking me in the bathroom as if I were none the wiser,

They’re not my father when he says ‘I love you’,

And then I see her,

See, she used to be afraid of the stairs,

Not because she wasn’t sure how to go down them,

But because they were large and daunting,

Down them was where my spirit was haunting within the shadows that want to eat her,

I used to have health issues,

And a school life spiraling out of control,

I stopped caring,

I stopped fighting,

My room was my tomb of regrets and anger,

But even though she was afraid of the stairs,

She still went down them, yelling obscenities,

It’s still the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me,

I went to more doctor’s appointments,

I took more medication,

I was able to feel light enough to finish more homework,

My grades on the steady raise,

Just like her breaths as she fell asleep on my feet with a chew bone in her mouth,

And G-ddammit, if I was going to live for anything,

If I was going to live for anything after April 24th,

When she was suddenly put in my lap,

And looked up at me with a grin and tuna breath,

It would be for her,

All of this because she’s filled with honesty,

And what she promised me,

That I would never be lonely,

When I come home, see,

Collar jingling,

Toe nails tapping,

Those sparkly doe eyes,

Toothy grin,

As if she’s been waiting all this time,

Has she?


She follows me,

Calls me,


Her name is ‘Nandi’,

But when I see her,

It sounds like this…

You hear that?

Neither do I,


© Copyright 2018 Kat Kelly. All rights reserved.

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