I'm buried in grading and my mind is to-do list, so today I will write something simple: a description of my dog, Teddy.
His huge, furry mass is lumped on the floor.
His breath often sounds so human, so recognizable.
He is tenderly licking his own paw
as if his paw is something to be cared for and loved.
Every time I get up, he follows me,
snorting aggressively and moving his head toward the door
in an obvious communication of his desire.
I try to reason with him,
tell him the boy is sleeping and we both know,
you will just bark and wake him up.
I can't really tell if the message gets through,
but when I sit, he lays down and resumes his paw ministrations
in an aggrieved silence,
dreaming of lying in the snow.