Even after all the warnings on the television, the pamphlets, the public broadcast through all forms of media… All the strict instructions and all the pleadings… My man still brought a stray dog home.
As though he were the Messiah, ever on a crusade to save lost souls. Deaf to advise, blind to council, he does it anyway. Took his fishing rod on his way out, but came back with a stray dog in tow. My man brought a stray dog home.
I personally made it a point to reiterate that point, told him to not wear his heart on his sleeve, not to go around saving souls. Made it very clear that he must be weary of running his hands through the mane of a rotwieller and carry a chihuahua on his lap while he brushes its fur. Told him over and over again to put away the foolish man in him and not go running after other men’s dogs… He still brought a stray dog home.
The child in him never grew up, he remained foolish. A brat he became for he was spared a rod. Now he is an overgrown child that throws his toys out the cot to make space for stray dogs, yes my man brought a stray dog home.
Now, as he lays there on the bed. With all the deep wounds from all the dog bites. I find it hard to sympathise. As I look in his eyes, anger fills my mind!
He lay down with it, and stayed down with more than just fleas; it had wounded him.
The same stray dog he brought home bit him and left him for dead. Didn’t even lick his wounds, the stray dog bit him and left him for dead. There, in a cold bed he lay. We feed, dress, and put him to sleep like a little a boy he always was. The man child that brought home a stray dog.
Ungrateful from the onset, compulsive and impulsive from the beginning. Today I’m making room for the stray dog. Clearing the cupboards and closets for the stray dog. I pack my bags and take one last look at this man. The foolish, childish, impulsive and compulsive man who decided to bring a stray dog home…
I take one last look as I leave him there to die!