This is not love and that's okay

The white haired dog
was snatched by the throat
for yelping at bigger dogs. This
dog was too much of a dog
to take any more of that shit.
The puppy corpse belonged
to me, a child. The dog of dogs
set it at my feet, paws moving
like a blade of grass above
barely breathing lips, which is
not enough movement to keep
any kind of hope for resucitation.
I never tried to replace it with
another little white dog, I didn't
do anything about it except
watch it happen, and then walk
inside for a glass of water. Such
is the nature of dogs, or so I figured.
The water was soothing, I was
thankful for such a warm day.