Trot beside me before I start at a run,
Trying to find someplace new to be shunned.
The two of us, we’re surely a pair,
With my dark brown skin and your snow white hair.

Surely, in past lives, I was just like you,
Knowing no home but the one I’m used to.
Accepting of this just as constant as they are,
Never knowing the pain of self-inflicted scars.

And maybe, at some point, I too relied on senses,
Knowing nothing of the world beyond large wooden fences
Yet somehow being able to bring myself pure joy
By carrying with me the simplest of toys.

I bet that, perhaps, you’re some version of me,
That our meeting was more than coincidentally,
I know that, without you, my other half would be gone,
Forever lost in the form of a fluffy white Bichon.

I wonder if, sometimes, you wonder about what’s beyond the yard,
Or long to be in tales worthy of songs from the bard,
I wonder how often it is you feel alone,
Whimpering protests when my footsteps are gone.

It’s far beyond your simple comprehension,
But because of you, my life has a mission.
To see you excited when no one else cares,
It brings me out of my lingering despairs.

The small things you do, like lifting your leg
And using the restroom on even small pegs,
Things that, to you, are what life’s all about.
But things that, to me, I’d rather live without

The small things like the way your ears flop when you run,
A small little hop on four legs; I poke fun,
Somehow even the smallest of things bring me joy.
Like when you run away, come home, and attempt to play coy.

You measure life without regards to time,
You only know moments by how much you waste of mine.
I measure life in the future; I live years from now.
Yet the two of us manage together, somehow.

To my parents, caring for you is merely a chore,
Something to keep me busy or occupied when I’m bored.
But to me, caring for you, it’s much more than that,
I’d stop all I’m doing at the drop of a hat.

I refuse to dwell on reminders that you,
You’ll one day be just a distant memory, too.
I can’t imagine you one day not eating or old,
With black claws wrapped around you in a vicelike hold.

With you, I know someday we’ll travel the world,
I’ll give you all the things that I couldn’t before.
And if, there comes a day when to death I concede,
If I’ll be with you, no convincing I’ll need.