the watchdog
barks all night.
nervous
on his chain.
his fur bristled
down the spine
as he pulls at the tree.
wary of every shadow
that passes by.
keeping evil at bay.
but he wonders
about a different
life, being curled
on a couch, sleepily
with a bone,
a hand rubbing
his soft belly,
his ears too,
getting the spot
where it itches,
just right.
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