writing and research

My ageing dog enjoys his sleep
And though my writing earns his keep,
He’s not amused when I am writing through the night.

He lifts his head each time I move
And when I’m in a writing groove
You’ll barely see a finger linger on the keys.
His head keeps bobbing up and down
Between his eyes I see a frown
Directed at the laptop sitting on my knees.

If he could speak I know he’d say
“Put that writing thing away, go up to bed
And let a poor dog rest his head and scratch his fleas.”

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