A Golden Dog Up the driveway I walked. My dog sees me while my dad talked. She comes and pulls me. For the driver couldn’t see. By the diaper she pulled. I could have been mauled. But now the dog is gone. I feel like all I can do is run. But she wouldn’t want that. So I stopped and sat. At times I miss that dog. In me, she isn’t a fog. If it’s all I know. She will know where to go.