meant nothing to me. The house I
grew up in, the one where bath
time meant mom stayed
in her room and
daddy made the
water
change
colors,
house
that
was
a
sweatshirt
home. Tiny with
knick-knacks.
was
A
wet
with
boozy perspiration and
porch. Dirty carpet.
Luscious came whimpering to me,
limping with his front paw held up.
his yellow sweatpants
weren’t on him at all.
He was happy to see me and seek
“Come on, dad,” and I moved
forgiveness, despite any pain. He
toward him, “You have to take the
laid himself down, snout between
top off too.”
his
paws,
breathing
unsteadily,
dark eyes rising to meet mine.
“I’ll bet ya wonder what I was up
to in there.”
“Dad! Come on, dad. You need a
“No,” I grabbed his arm. He
bath and then I need to take your
yanked it back and spit at me
dog to the vet. You’re going to have
except