and write in the gazebo
since she was three months old.
Now she's eleven,
sitting on that same perch,
still watching me.
I love her paws and those ears,
always in the perked-up position.
If she hears a sound that doesn't belong here, she's up and running; and that sweet little girl turns into a creature you don't want to mess with.
But when people she knows stop by,
and she recognizes their smells
and their body energy isn't creepy,
she kisses them all over.
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