She works the room,
first flirting, then demanding.
If that doesn’t work, she ramps it up.
She sits on laps and slaps us.
She doesn’t work for food,
but she’s a worker for rewards.
Now she naps, she’s tuckered out.
It’s hard work to be a dog.
written to the prompt, Work, and published in Medusa's Kitchen:
コメント