Like a Dog (REV 4)

[tectak]

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
so that I could actually go anywhere for more than a day.
But there I was, stuck, walking in the rain, with a
gnawed on umbrella, and freezing in 5 below, wearing
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.
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...

Stop. Just stop. Lookee, you CAN write poetry. What is this? Oh, it's prose/free verse (whatever), text, words...call it what you will...yes to all that.But come on, this is Serious Workshopping...crazy line breaks, pointlessly deliberate/accidental  enjambments, no rhyme, meter or, and I hate myself for saying it...skill.
All you have done is write your life moment. No spelling mistakes? Excellent. Punctuation? Adequate.How do we crit this? I will try.
It is observationally accurate...I cannot argue with your thinking. Well, that's about it, really. I fear you miss the point. You are supposed to make your effort the best you can in this forum.
Best,
tectak