We’re simpatico Benson and me
his views of our new life mesh
sweetly though I see in him a
greater change; he used to be
a canine asshole with wannabe
pretensions aired in fang-bared
assertions of theatrical
dominance.
Yet in an instant he’d be the
cute face-licking bosom buddy
expected of a dog at the foot
of the tree. Now there’s only
him and I so I say, ‘you’re top
dog Benson’ and wince at his
dry ‘why does that sound so
unconvincing?’ reply.
© 22 September 2009, I. D. Carswell
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