I hate how their smells linger
In cars and houses, on clothes and fingers.
I hate their dribble, drool, sniffs and licks,
Their nips and bites, barks and kicks.
I hate the way they scamper and scuttle
And mortifyingly crotch-snuffle.
I loathe how their fur covers my clothes,
Gets into my hair, creeps up my nose
Giving me outbreaks of hives, a fear of fleas
Swollen eyes, a frightening wheeze.
I loathe how encountering their dander
Makes me tear my skin asunder.
And yet I love them when outside,
Seeing them flying free, running wild
Or on a screen, when a documentary
Makes me gasp, wonder, laugh involuntarily.
I adore their galloping majesty,
Love stories sentimental of canine loyalty.
And when one of them looks at me,
I feel our similarities.
A life lives, a heart beats.
I cannot eat their meat,
Cannot stomach flesh, sinews, veins
Minced and chopped, served up as my main.