Dear Pup

Dear Pup:

 

You are coming.

 

You are so small, and your eyes protrude.

White exterior, you are pink beneath.

 

Upon first glance, this does not reflect

an innate ability to hold your own.

 

It suggests potential allergies, anxious tremors,

broken leg bone jumping from the couch.

 

Flinching in the face of larger forces:

passing cars, fireworks, retrievers

I can’t recall if

I’ve heard you bark

 

And yet

 

When I feared you might be deaf,

a doorknob turned in the other room

 

You knew

 

Foster mom calls you jack-in-the-box

she says you like to pounce

 

Upon introduction to the neighbor’s dog

you met her,

nose to nose

 

I withhold judgment,

sensing in you

a force

both tender and brave

 

Sharp as a tack

quick in a jam

full capacity yet unseen

perhaps vigilant, and true

 

Our pack waits

under the winter moon

we listen for your name

 

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