tiny bows

The lady across the street got what they call a toy poodle..except it was no toy. It was young and blond and everyone coddled it. They called it Daisy and everyone awwww-ed.

Of course I saw all of this from a distance because I was put in the backyard for bad behavior. From the window I could make out a purple beaded collar and a tiny pink bow in her hair.

I know I'll never be the bow type with my swinging belly and my fierce bark. And I know I'm way past the age of cute and cuddly. But when no one's home I sometimes stare in the mirror and practice my prance and imagine myself svelt, young and stylish with an ever so incredible tiny , tiny bow.

I could pull off pink...really I could.