UntitledSalwa C. Jabado
He turned mean after the surgery. We never recovered. Some dogs just prefer to drag themselves under the porch, groan into the damp shade, refuse food. He pushed off my kindness like one of those silly plastic lampshades dogs wear to protect them from roughing out their stitches. His growls I could take for what they were, man in pain lost in the tunneling shadows of it but long after the chemo we were still barking all the time.
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