Adventures of Man and Mutt

Morning starts with a slobbery kiss,

an alarm clock of fur and enthusiasm.

Coffee brews while you wag your tail,

watching me fumble for socks

like a man on a scavenger hunt he never agreed to.

The leash jingles, your ears perk.

You’re a meteor of excitement,

dragging me into the world,

where squirrels rule the kingdom

and mail trucks are sworn enemies.

You sniff every blade of grass

like a sommelier evaluating fine wine.

"Ah yes," your face says,

"2019 Labrador, notes of tennis ball and mischief."

Meanwhile, I hold your leash

like a contestant in a strength competition.

At lunch, you beg with eyes so big

I could drown in them.

One sandwich for me, one accidental crumb for you,

and suddenly, you’re the king of the feast.

Your gratitude is sloppy and endless.

Afternoon naps are mandatory—

you on the couch, me on the chair,

snoring in perfect unison,

a symphony of bliss.

By evening, we’re a team of explorers again,

chasing sunsets and rogue frisbees,

finding joy in the simplest things.

You’re not just a dog;

you’re my partner in crime,

my fur-covered shadow,

the four-legged comedian

who makes life endlessly funny.