My feet are floating a half-inch above the floor.
My lips touch hers so softly.
Her cheek, her hair, the side of her neck
are like sunlight and new grass.
The jingle of collar tags, a yap and the pressure
of two little paws on her calf
announce his arrival.
He cannot bear to be excluded.
Our private embrace becomes a family hug.
He is a frito-smelling, fish-breathed
ten-pound fright-wig with legs and X-ray vision.
He was two rooms away.
How did he know that I was kissing my Missus in the kitchen?
Lucky Angus MacPup