My Aunt’s Dog
The dog isn’t even mine,
but he might as well be.
It’s the way he jumps up to say hello
and the way he watches out the window
as I drive away.
He makes his presence known
by chewing on toys so loudly
that I don’t know how I ever lived
with the silence.
The dog doesn’t live with me
and I don’t see him every day.
But any dog that lets me love them
is counted as one of mine.