Three Decker

One hundred thirty pounds of pitbull!
She lives on the second floor;
Maple is her name and
she is thrilled to see me — jumps up
on me, tail going furiously;
I almost fall over, or at least I would
if there was no wall to prop me up.

On the third floor
is the mongrel Moxie
who does the same thing but
she is smaller, much smaller —
maybe half the size?
I greet her too
and she seems just as glad.

Also on the second floor
lives a couple with another pitbull
whose name I can’t remember
who shows me no affection
and neither do the owners.
We watch each other
when we rarely meet.

Third floor: Kelly has Moxie.
Second floor: Erin owns Maple
and (I think) Andrew and Sarah go with the black dog
whose name I have never known.
On the first floor? We have a cat named Miesha.
Never had a dog, ever. We had ferrets
once upon a time but they are long gone.

I don’t know why I’m telling you this
and I don’t know why it should matter
other than my hands are getting death-cold
and it seems critical to me that someone,
anyone should know. Dogs and cat may die sooner
than I will; maybe not; maybe I’ll go first.
You will want to mourn them. Don’t, not for me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
onward,
T