The Dog Bite

I said I was calling about the dog bite.
What’s your date of birth?
I said I was calling about the dog bite.
Yes I know but I need to know your DOB,
otherwise this conversation ends right here.

Ok:
One, One, Eighty One.
Sounds like a band don’t you think.?
No.

I said I was calling about the dog bite.
Someone will call you back
in the next hour or so.

And there ended our conversation.
A mucky and criminally low experience.
Full of mistaken expectation,
and health professionals
masquerading as speaking clocks.

I said I was calling about the dog bite.
And about the decline of Western Civilization
where domestic pets are elevated
to a hairier, less smart
branch of the human family.

The branch unfamiliar with flushing toilets
and tidying away  mess.
With the rules that govern the biting
of unfortunate houseguests.

I was bitten you see by a Chihuahua
who goes by the name of Walter.
That’s all you need to know,
and before you forget :

I said I was calling about the dog bite.


One response to “The Dog Bite

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