All Dogs Like Cheese

I swear, dogs have a language  

we’ll never fully learn. Words hidden  

in the wag of a tail, coded  

in the tilt of an ear.  

But if there is a treaty  

between species, it is cheese.  

A sharp cheddar peace offering,  

a stringy mozzarella truce.  

I watch my dog’s eyes glow  

like lanterns when the wrapper crinkles,  

unveiling treasures she swears  

were forged just for her.  

There is trust in that offering.  

No guile in the way  

she snatches the morsel,  

devours it like a prayer answered.  

She licks her lips, hopeful still.  

Because dogs know something we forget—  

that life is precarious, and joy  

sometimes smells faintly of dairy.