The sad truth is, I love this dog but he doesn't love me.
Well, he loves me but he doesn't love me.
I walk him, I feed him, and I adore him.
He adores Michael.
The man who didn't want another dog.
From the time he gets home from work,
Buddha is on him like glue.
He follows him from room to room.
He lays outside the bathroom door.
When Michael sits down, Buddha sits
as close to him as possible and lays his head in his lap.
When Michael is nearby and you want to pet Buddha, he will let you,
but his eyes are intently focused on Michael.
Buddha even sleeps on the floor by his side of the bed.
I don't know what Michael ever did to deserve this kind of loyalty.
Old Buddha loved me the most. Really he did.
Not this guy-
I have come to terms with it--
and I will take what I can get.
And though I wouldn't trade him for the world,
I would just like to understand:
"Why not me?"
