Master Of All He Surveys

Small he is, yes, but a powerful
little dog he is also. Entitled and
prone to outraged discombobulation
should he feel affronted by neglect,
a casual overlooking of his needs
to be front and centre in constant
regard. And those daily walks in
the woods, what an imposition of a
nuisance interfering with naptimes!

Neurotic anxiety prevails, until
his white porcelain bowl, filled to
brimming with his favourite food
(and that could be anything edible)
is placed tenderly before his
famished little snout come the
morning, as we patiently await
our own breakfast, which he so
generously offers to share with us.

Should we be seated comfortably
with a mind to read, he is instantly
beside us, no matter how narrow the
space to share and resulting discomfort,
making way for his paddling little paws
and slight form whose presence so
strangely dominates our own.

Abed at night, snug under covers we
lie, a trois a menage, a jumble of
human limbs and prodding canine
paws, taking care not to invade too
conspicuously the space he has
delineated as his very own, albeit
graciously permitting us to share.

Should we leave him alone for a period
of time exceeding two minutes, he
invariably proclaims his tragic
abandonment, howling he is left to
his own helpless devices, with the miracle
of survival becoming a sharp point of
contention, he threatening to alert the
authorities in the severe agony of his
disappointment at our deplorable
priorities, values and judgement.