Freewrite1, Week 8, Euthanasia Part III

Wake up, lick my mother, warg a little tail for her,
run outside, sniff pine and bird feather dust, graze a muzzle
to bark. Lift a leg to the hot salute of the morning. Run inside,
beg for kibble, get heartworm treats instead. Lick my leg, floop
a wonk midair, kamikazi style, chew a shoe, crawl in bed, nibble her
ears again, window light chops her face blue and brown, breakfast time,
they call hers cereal, too cold to plink, and slucks like cardboard.
Lucky day, maxi pads and coffee grinds, the munch of my kennel.
Lick my leg, craw a bone (tastes like chicken), run outside, scruff the yard,
crawl behind sofa with a sock, chew a shoe, thud car keys. Color flashes—
gray. Lick her toes, lick my thigh, run outside. Chase Milla down the
street, her tail bobbing in shadow. Wake up, creak to stand, pee outside,
hobble in, that thigh still hurts, water moots and her buttons splint between
teeth. Mattress grains, lick her hand, nuzzle her tummy to sleep. Clink to
the vet, the whirs stink of sweat and shaved hair. Pricks, pricks, gruffs,
that whore they call a muzzle. That thigh still hurts. Fingers poke and peel,
slicing fur from skin. I’m skened to a table. They amble, amble, whisper cancer.