I met Finnegan when I was four and he was cowering against the side of his shelter kennel;

His colleagues pranced, as if to say “Somebody, anybody, spring me from this joint!”

But Finnegan was as placid as  a monk contemplating the Dao;

It worked;

I told my Mom “If we don’t take him, nobody else will”;

And so we did;

I was too young to take care of him, so;

One night;

He broke his leash and ran into the Bayside night;

Ever since then, I’ve wondered if my weakness for sad sacks;

Is because;

I want Finnegan back.



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