We met because the woman who owned you
Had to let you go.
I sat on the grass with you and held you
And as you realized you were being left with strangers you struggled against me.
I brought you home and you glued yourself to the window,
Heartbroken.

I comforted you, and gave you a box to improve your vantage point,
But you had no way of understanding what had happened or why.

Yesterday I left for work
And you came to the window to watch me leave.
When I came home a few hours later you whined and pawed at me and jumped
In my lap.
Maybe you thought I wouldn’t return?
You danced for cookies and I gave them to you.

I sometimes think about your memory of the woman who called you Remington.
I remember her crying as she left you with me.

You seem happy here, and I consider
How a dog goes through life without words
And must find contentment in the world as she finds it.

Language is a hell of a thing.

I would like to be able to tell you that I love you,
So I throw your ball, and give you another cookie, and worry how you’re feeling
Whenever I’m not home.