Breakfast Gone To The Dogs

There’s a certain almost … almost poetry in all that we do. You just have to find it.

Pea bounces a glared excited tooth happy growl, and I bounce along, feets, paws and hands up in the air like we just do care. Louie barks, incessant, loud, annoyingly now out the back door be gone with you my friend until, Chrissy spins, dances, dances in circles in a circus of dog, her head a ballerina’s held spot as her body swivels, Georgia gets impatiently, prettily underfoot, the prettiest of dog have ever I’ve seen, while also bouncing a following, Polly anticipates Polly and, Eve & Senta, wolf-size the envy, search empty garage cat food plastic flats from the night before waiting. Those cats leave nothing.

Me? I just marvel at their simple breakfast.

C’mon Spanky, little one, an “eye!” or not, my pirate, look down, focus, you too. Let’s eat.


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