My aging buff cocker, forever
the runt in my mind, has to take
these heart pills that I pick up
for her at the drugstore where
I get my own people medicine.
And so Dink has my last name,
at least the pharmacists say so.
She and I talk about our health;
one day I may be given enalapril too.
Yet for now we share from my plate,
knowing Troy’s lasagna recipe can’t
be good for either of our conditions,
but it disguises enalapril quite well.
We both avoid chocolate and rawhide.
When I read the patient prescription
information that accompanies her
childproof bottle of small white pills,
it advises using caution when driving
|or operating machinery. I tell Dink she
has the day off from bulldozing houses.
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