For My Dog I thought I might travel to the Amalfi Coast this summer but I prefer you, my little heating stove at my feet, to the warmth of a hundred Italian suns. I would rather feel the rise and fall of your breath beneath my hand than all the bobbing boats of Positano. What good is seeing the Pietà when I can watch you, watching me? The Trevi Fountain has nothing on our little spot down by our creek where you like to doze while I read.
