To the pet shop

Me n my Chinese friend Jay go to the petshop to buy goldfish.
And rayed along the walls more like a petting zoo are meek cats and long-faced Afghan hounds that nod and avoid your eye.
Some dogs that back off when you approach them but then when you show you mean well let you embrace them, stroke their furry backs, feel the flip of their tails, their arch and curl. Black dogs, anonymous brown dogs, thin ones with ribs showing, reclining white ones with thick fur.
Dogs never look you in the eye. It's a threat amongst dogs, as is the baring of teeth. After all this time they have only fitfully adapted to life amongst humans. They merely  put up with your embraces.
I tell Jay that I was born in the Year of the Cat. He tells me that the Chinese character in this case actually means "small furry animal with a weak back".