Like a Dog (REV 4)

[QDeathstar]

Done With Dogs

I’m done with dogs. I was done even before
I told my son we weren’t getting another. I knew better
than to fall for begging, but we know how that goes.
Before I knew it, there I was, again, walking
a damn dog, feeding him, and taking him to the vet.
Always trying to find somebody (anybody) to dog sit somebody (anybody) is redundant and I'm not sure it adds anything
so that I could actually go anywhere for more than a day. seems wordy. Why the word actually? To be honest the entire line is rather dry... Maybe paint a picture of somewhere you wanted to go but were forced to stay home again. Also, you talk about your son liking the dog. I think there is an opportunity there to contrast perceptions of events rather than these dry generalizations
But there I was, stuck, walking in the rain, with a
gnawed on umbrella, and freezing in 5 below, wearing i stumbled over this with the rain, then walking in five below. I also don't like the 5, it sticks out. I understand that these are different instances, but I found it distracting
chewed up gloves, and muffs with one ear missing.  
And yep, that was me, out on the trail those summers, dragging
at 95 plus, while the dog got to cool off in the creek, then
track mud all through the house.  What a dumb-ass
I was.  I even bought those stupid doggie toys, just because
the dog loved to open things.  It seemed to help keep him
out of the trash can, by giving him something else to tear apart.
The only problem is that the back yard is now full of holes
where legless clowns and headless monkeys are buried.
At least he was easy to please.  The same old thing always
seemed new to him.  Maybe that’s why he always had to tag along.  
A simple run up to the store?  Didn’t matter.  Gotta go.
Why do dogs act like a dumb car ride is some great adventure?  
His favorite was the vet.  Other dogs. Cats.  All that attention.those aren't complete sentences and I can't make out what you are trying to say
But, oh my God, the vet bills.  Of course, there was no doubt  
who would pay those, or who would be the one to clean up
the shit when his hips gave out.  I knew I’d have to be the one
to carry him to the vet.  What about my hips?  My back?
How is it that dogs just keep right on smiling, even when
they’re not able to walk?  Lord were those vet bills expensive.
I’m sorry. They just got too damn expensive.

You have your own place now, son.  Just because you’re going
on vacation, doesn’t mean you can drop off that three-legged
fuzz ball, with the floppy ears, and full moon eyes, at my house.
I’m done with dogs.  So stop the begging...

This read more like a journal entry that a poem, I'm not great with meter, but it didn't feel like it had one. There's not a lot of imagery of use of metaphors.... It's just there.

Unless the dog is a metaphore for atomic weapons. But I'm not that clever.