A dog is just a dog until he isn’t.

Barking at geese, chasing squirrel,
fur and teeth and running paws—
I see him.

Licking jaws, thudding tail,
nudging nose beneath my hand—
I feel him.

Nuzzled to my side, nodding at my feet,
rumbling sighs, snorts, and squeals—
I hear him.

And when he glances up at me—
a dog is just a dog until he isn’t.