Love is a Dog From Hell

I met my ex at a dog training class. It wasn't his dog. It was his older sister's and she left it locked in their mother's house for three days without food or water. She trashed the house and never came back. So his mom took the dog and he just came along to dog training class because he had nothing to do.

He told me he was manic depressive that first night he came over to smoke cigarettes out my apartment window. Turned out his sister, who was now living in an abandoned factory in San Francisco, used to be a friend of mine during high school. She was the one who got me smoking. Now I'm addicted. Some of the best times with my ex were spent smoking. Smoking on the back porch, the front porch, in a car on a hill.

Now he's in and out of mental hospitals. I rest better when he's locked up than when he's walking around staring at the sun. Sometimes I see his mom walking by with the dog. Now she's got two. I guess she feels safer that way.


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