........................................................................................ - a weBlog by Snowy and me.

Tuesday, 25 November 2025

In My Most Lucid Moments

I ask myself if I was born
into the wrong species:
I would like to have been born
as a dog, a working animal,
a lurcher or a sheep dog
with a master to be loyal to,
in which my loyalty was not blind
but built on how we knew each other,
however many dogs he had knew before.

Alas I have nobody to be loyal to now,
and night and day, life is long
and only fleetingly amusing.

But when you are the wrong species
-particularly when that means being human
-it is missing much more than your vocation.
  

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