Everything is always okay in a forever home

As wagged and barked to Amy Alexander

You know how to stay cool on those days when your owners keep craning their necks at the sky? When they say something that sounds a little bit like, “Oh, my gosh, the EAT,” only they don’t follow that up by actually giving you a Snausage?

What I like to do on these days is to stretch out, right here, on this floor made of flat trees. Oh, you’d never believe how cold it can get here. I feel a bit like a polar bear. It’s delightful.

This is a nice place to live, this city that smells like a big river. I was born in a puppy mill, and because of that, I sneeze a lot. But I don’t really mind the sneezing, because my owner—I call her Mom— she always notices. It’s great to have someone who notices when you sneeze.

Mom’s got a good heart. She always brings interesting creatures home with her. Lots of times, these kids have bandages on them. Usually they leave, and I hear Mom talk about “forever homes.” Sometimes I miss these short-spell brothers and sisters, but it’s okay. Everything is always okay in a forever home.

Even though people joke about my short attention span, I’ll never forget the day Ginger came to live with us. She came in from Texas. Let me tell you, the dogs in Texas pack heat right there in their teeth. She raised that golden whisker pad of hers to show some pretty frightening whites. Didn’t want anything to do with me. Turned out she was a lot sweeter than she seemed at first. Still, she can scare away a whole pack with that rootin’ tootin’ Texas snarl.

But me? She loves me.

Okay, gotta go now. Mom’s got the bike trailer set up so Ginger and I can cruise with her around my neighborhood smelling for feral cats.

Writer and poet Amy Alexander’s first collection of poetry, “Finding Betty Crocker,” was published in August by Naissance Press.