A motioned tail, tongue of gentle drape
that lies between this pet's white, unstained teeth.
Two warmly piercing eyes, laden with assurance,
filled with unyielding and devoted trust; it's mouth agape,
this canine-child's head seems lightly wreathed
by curiosity and primal innocence.

With seamless skill, I take, in hand, a knife
and slip the blade beneath his stomach's skin.
A master carpeter, hewing trees alive,
so that the sap, blood, a wetness deep within
escapes.
The lowing dog makes no rough sound,
only a somber, necessary howl of pain, still filled with trust so deep,
occasionally whimpering; he knows no harm be found
from his loving master, as he's gently flayed to sleep.