My dog, Horus,
smiling, sweet, simple,
the face of love,
with ENORMOUS brown eyes
meeting mine,
arresting my attention.
He steps closer to me,
presses his wet black nose against me,
shoves his tiger-striped head
under my hand,
and I obey his silent command,
scratching his velvet ears,
rubbing my fingers
across his crown,
and he has a wart there now,
right in the middle of his forehead.
I don’t know if it bothers him at all,
but it drives me nuts.
This little white bump,
a tiny boulder in the smooth field of soft fur.
I can’t tell you when it first popped up,
but it’s gotten a little bigger
in the past couple of weeks.
We could have it removed,
but it’s purely a cosmetic concern.
So he’s growing a horn,
my rare, mystical unicorn hound.
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