modern sonnet, another place

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He bites me

when I try to put his leash on,

when I raise my legs into bed,

sometimes when I tie my shoes.

He snarls at other dogs,

lunges at children and bicycles,

digs holes in the drywall,

chews legs off the chairs.

He wants to be a good dog, I say.

Doesn't jump on the furniture,

sleeps at the foot of my bed,

comes when he's called.

"Love him until you can't," says a stranger with two dogs.

"Then find another place for him."

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