You are not a Teacup Yorkie.
You are a Doberman, an
Australian Shepherd, a Siberian Husky.
You are a working dog.
You were not meant to shiver in your mother’s purse,
Bows fastened between your furry ears;
You were meant to pull sleds through thick snow, track
Rabbits and thieves, gather lost sheep.
You will not wag your tail when you open your eyes
In your dark bedroom at 5am.
Your body may beg and slump back to sleep.
But your hands and feet will twitch,
Tracking something terrifying and quick,
A prey that makes you pant and whimper,
A pursuit that pains you.
Wake up and chase it.
You are a working dog.
You sleep to dream of the work that wakes you.
You wake for work that roughens your paws,
Burns your lungs,
Harnesses your heart.
