My childhood dog came back to me last night.
The one my parents said had been stolen from our back yard.
He'd clearly been hit by a car at some point, his sides bore the tyre marks.
Still he looked as happy to see me as he always did.
The rotten stump of his tail flicked from side-to-side and he panted through his gaping jaw.
Most of his fur had fallen off but he was still my dog, my best friend.
I used to hide him whenever someone came around but it didn't last.
He smelt as bad as you'd expect from a rotting animal.
I tried to remove the rest of his flesh and fur by submerging him in vinegar but it didn't work.
A visiting friend found him in there and called the cops for "animal cruelty".
They don't believe that he's still alive, they say I killed him.
He's still out there though, waiting outside my front door just as happy as he was last time I saw him.
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