Each of your fibers and faux hairs caressed under my fingertips,
You're a little piece of art, aren't you?
Each black spot so tenderly kissed onto your fuzzy canvas
A muzzle so fluffy one could call it a sin.
You feel like love.
You're clean now.
You were cleaned by someone I love.
You were given to me graciously by someone I love.
And, therefore, I love you.
Until the end of your years, your seams, when they spill their contents and leak the era you came from.
You're an oldie, but a goodie.
Your floppy ears, your round nose, your saggy stature,
You're meaningful.
You're so very meaningful.
