I can’t separate my dog from her separation anxiety. She can’t stand to be apart from me. I wear clothes two sizes too big because she crawls into them with me, plastering herself to my back. The doctor doesn’t understand how I can be so skinny and weigh so much. My mother doesn’t understand why I stoop when I walk.
When I open the front door, she demands to go. She brings me her leash. Head and tail high, she sashays down the sidewalk, looking back now and then to make certain we’re attached. Unless she smells dog pee. Off she goes, wiping her face in someone else’s business, no concern that I’ll have to dunk her in suds when we get home.
Sometimes, you just have to roll in it. And face the consequences later.
inspired by Jae Nichelle’s “Friends with Benefits - Anxiety Poem:”
and Grant Clauser's "Synonyms for Joy:"
published in Doctor Funny
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