I was by myself. My heart was longing for a pulse other than my own but I wasn’t ready. I was afraid of the commitment... afraid that it would go wrong again that I would go wrong again. But my heart was yours as soon as I saw you. I adopted you and you adopted me. I used to have a dog, but he never really liked me. He only laid around- but never next to me. He ran away. I thought you were different though. So I put my trust in you. I took you home. I showed you where you would sleep and eat and how to curl into the bend of my legs when the rain would hit the window on a Saturday morning. I showed you to my friends but they said you were too protective of me. Like you owned me instead of the other way around. I brushed it off and told myself they were just jealous because they didn’t have a dog. They had always wanted a dog, after all.

We were perfect for each other. We played and you watched me laugh when you would do something funny. But then you would just watch as the tears streamed down my cheeks when you would upset me. I was mad at first, but you were just a dog. You didn’t mean it. So you’d sit there. Occasionally sniffing or scratching and I expected nothing and forgave you like it was my fault.

It got worse as the months went on. I tried to leave but you’d sit in front of the door looking at me. Your eyes quickly turned away from the puppy dog eyes I first fell into. You would bark so loud that it would echo off the couch and doors and then the stupid expression on my face every time I tried to walk away because I thought I could actually get away with it this time. But you hadn’t changed.

I hoped it was all bark but I knew when I pushed you too far the bite would come. Your distorted expression that was pierced by the stinging spit that spewed from between your lips shook me to the ground. I was then on your level, perfectly vulnerable for your teeth to sink into my arms and legs and face and torso and every part of my body that I though was mine... but it wasn’t. It was yours. I let you own me. I held on so tight to the leash that I thought I had on you I didn’t notice the one around my own throat that burned deeper into my veins that strained each time I strayed too far. I turned from my friends and my self and the life I thought I wanted so I could cater to your needs and so you’d stay with me and not run away like the others.

I would see friends and family and they’d always ask about the bruises and cuts and I’d just say “dog bite”. But they only responded with “well, you must have done something to make him bite?”