Grace

Every night I go to bed and read
And she is there, seemingly uncomfortable but dreaming and breathing
Waiting for me to make a move or sound
Hanging on the words “Grace”
“Hungry?”
“Outside!”
Every night when I sit and read
She’s there, warming my feet with the heat of her bones
A mixed bag potion of love
Concealed inside the yellow fur of a Labrador dog
More human than human
“Sit.”
“Stay.”
“Good girl!”

M.

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