an art form

the dog
is sad when
you're about to leave.
you see it in
his eyes.
he climbs
into your
suitcase,
curling up
against your
beach clothes.
it's just a week
you tell
him, which makes
him roll over
so that you
can scratch
where he likes
to be scratched.
he wags his
tail, letting
his tongue
drop out
into a dog
smile.
he knows
the drill, your
dog.
having trained
him well
in the art of
guilt.