Tale

There’s something about me
that the new dog doesn’t like.

But I can’t work out what it is.

I feed him.
I definitely don’t mistreat him.

He has his own bed.
I take him for walks.

But there’s no tail wag
when I speak to him.

If I throw a ball
he doesn’t chase it.

When Dad calls round
he only has to say
‘Hello little chap’
and the new dog’s on his lap
trying to lick his face.

‘You’re going to have to take him, Dad,’ I say.
‘I don’t think he wants to be with me.’

‘Are you sure?’ says Dad.

I can feel the new dog staring at me.

‘Certain,’ I say.
‘It’s clear he doesn’t want to be here.’

‘Fair enough,’ says Dad.
‘I can see it too.’

The new dog comes over.

He looks up at me
and I bend down to give him a pat.

And on this occasion
he allows that.