Saint Bernard

A poem
by Chris Hibbard
December 22, 2014

Saint Bernard

“Would you like anything else?”, the young waitress asked sweetly.

“Yes. Can you please tell me why that dog is sitting there, staring at me?”

The customer stands and points at a large St. Bernard, sitting two booths over.

The waitress turns to look, as the dog absentmindedly lifts its cup of coffee clumsily with one paw, opens its mouth and tips the steaming liquid spilling over a panting tongue, streaming down its brown soaked beard of fur.

The waitress turns back to look at the man in disbelief and says, “By what right shouldn’t a harmless dog be allowed to sit quietly in his booth, enjoying his java?”

She turned her back and walked away.

The man slumped lower in his seat.

The dog took another sip.

~ by Chris Hibbard on December 22, 2014.

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