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Loyalty

 This is the hardest part:
When I came back to life
I was a good family dog
and not too friendly to strangers.
I got a thirty-five dollar raise in salary, and through the pea-soup fogs I drove the General, and introduced him at rallies.
I had a totalitarian approach and was a massive boost to his popularity.
I did my best to reduce the number of people.
The local bourgeoisie did not exist.
One of them was a mystic and walked right over me as if I were a bed of hot coals.
This is par for the course- I will be employing sundry golf metaphors henceforth, because a dog, best friend and chief advisor to the General, should.
While dining with the General I said, "Let's play the back nine in a sacred rage.
Let's tee-off over the foredoomed community and putt ourselves thunderously, touching bottom.
" He drank it all in, rugged and dusky.
I think I know what he was thinking.
He held his automatic to my little head and recited a poem about my many weaknesses, for which I loved him so.

by Edward Taylor
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