32. Looking Up
I used to climb on the sofa,
put my paws on the kitchen counter,
explore the beds. Whatever I found,
wherever I found it, I gnawed or
played with, or took outside and
buried. Now I know all that stuff's theirs.
I assume in my maturity that any
thing on the floor is mine. Which
upsets them still if they drop one
of their things and forget it
for a while and I make dog-use
of it. Funny how imperfect they
expect perfection of lowly me.
