Spot.

What is he called

And how old is he?

I spoke to the man with a gun and a dog

About to use the first on the second 

I don’t know he’s your dog now he said

Call him Spot or Patch or whatever you want

And he handed me the dog

Through the window of his truck

And drove away

And the dog had neither collar nor lead

But he wagged his tail

And I put him in my bus

And I called him Spot

And I told him that things would be just fine

And he was fine

Although he had a burn on his neck

From a collar which had given him electric shocks

But still he wagged his tail

And walked beside me

And ran to me if he was afraid

And he dug holes

And ate rabbit droppings

And snow and things which looked edible

And things which did not

And he looked to me for protection 

And wagged his tail.

He slept on my bed

And then slept in my bed

Under the covers

Where he farted and snored

And warmed the back of my knees

And my heart

And his head rested on my arm

Or over my stomach

And his head was silky as my hand brushed the dome of his skull

And his eyes were brown

And filled with love

As he wagged his tail.

And he grew tired and ill

And I gave him cheese and treats and love

As I had so much to spare from that

Which he gave to me

And I put on his coat

And he climbed into the car

And we drove to the vet

Where I said goodbye

And he wagged his tail

Looking at me

Trusting me

As the vet set him free

He wagged his tail

He wagged his tail.

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