You can take it away, as far as I’m concerned—I’d rather spend the afternoon with a nice dog. I’m not kidding. Dogs have what a lot of poems lack: excitements and responses, a sense of play the ability to impart warmth, elation . . . .
Tomorrow is National Dog Day. We humans like special days, don’t we? I guess it’s about the warm fuzzy feelings they evoke in the memories of happy times. This one occurred when I was eleven.
My Father spent some years as a salesman. He had a sales area which because of its size meant that he was gone for days at a time. Returning home from one of these trips he arrived at the back door carrying a large cardboard box. Setting it on the threshold he hunkered down, unmindful of his good suit and as we children gathered around he proceeded to open the box. What to our wondering eyes did appear but the cutest, most adorable little black, red tongued puppy we thought we had ever seen.
He was so energetic, trying to kiss everybody’s faces as we passed him around. Then he peed on Mom. I remember Dad setting him on the stoop and as we all entered the house Rex (that was his new name) had to be helped over the threshold as he was too fat to wiggle over it. We all laughed.
Rex , Dad explained was a Black Labrador Retriever. He grew and grew in physical size and love, big sloppy love was his specialty. He mostly stayed outdoors as he was added to the family because Dad was away a lot. Guard dog was his primary role,but occasionally on cold winter days he was ushered into the back pantry with a special blanket and snacks. Oh the love then lol.
He turned out to be a kind, patient companion alert to rabbits and squirrels along the path to the gardens. He was the first to flush out the porcupine with her babies, much to his chagrin. He never missed an opportunity to chase a stick. He seemed to sense when we were feeling blue and would sit close letting us pat his head, almost like he was offering a prescription for what ailed us.
If he had any flaw we never found it. That is until some years later we moved to a new home near a rural highway . It seemed that he had found the one thing that caused him some excitement in his quiet country life. Added a little spice he may have said in human words. He liked to chase the pea truck.
In the early autumn the peas are harvested in the Annapolis Valley. With it begins the steady procession of overloaded trucks taking the peas (with vines still attached) to the canning factory close by.
Rex just couldn’t seem to help himself. No amount of reproof made him change his ways. Every time he heard a pea truck rumble down that road he was sprinting along beside it barking, snarling, grabbing the occasional pea vine that fell off in the breeze in his teeth, shaking it back and forth as if he had captured the flag of sorts. The truck would soon disappear out of sight, then Rex’s demeanour would relax and he would saunter back to the step as if nothing had happened. Yawn.
Sadly, that is how Rex met his demise. I wasn’t there when it happened thankfully but that darn old pea truck obscured the view of another driver passing and didn’t see Rex as he crested the hill. One thump and he lay mortally wounded in a heap on the road. The commotion that followed , children crying, strangers apologizing, and the horror of the suffering friend I could only imagine as the story was relayed to me later. Gathering around, my siblings recounted those precious minutes where hope died. It was quickly apparent that the vet wasn’t an option. Fortunately a neighbor pulled up with a hunting rifle just then and Dad put our friend to rest.
it is said that “One bad trait can ruin a whole person”. I guess that can apply to dogs too.
Rex was buried deep in the woods among the old Apple trees the area is famous for. I have never visited. My brother mourned there. Boys and their dogs are another story.
RIP Rex. I’m glad we have a day to celebrate you.❤️
Photo credit: Dirk Vonderstrabe
While skimming through some YouTube videos recently I viewed an excerpt from the 1968 motion picture Funny Girl. One of the things that most stood out for me in this movie was the song Barbara Streisand introduced by the name of “People,” often known by the line in the chorus “People, people who need people are the luckiest people in the world”. I still remember that song for many reasons. One of these is the deep-rooted notion that we are never alone in this world, furthermore that we depend on others for more that just mere survival.
People do need people. Together we comprise the real “fabric of our lives.” It is up to us to work with one another in creating unity. By understanding what we share in common, and better defining the boundaries of what makes us different, we can embrace our connectedness and our diversity in the long run. And this affects our own reality, both as individuals, as well as at large. The sooner we come to this realization, the quicker we are able to fall in sync with our life’s purpose and find fulfillment. If we are to survive the challenges of our changing world, we must trust ourselves, open our hearts and bond with others through the real experiences that enrich our spirits. Only then will we rise to the call of our true nature, As the song says “you were half, now you’re whole.” 💝
Today I overheard the term “fabric of life”
Not as a complete sentence, certainly not sure of the context
I think of criss-crossing threads, a cloth of existence
That we can wrap around our selves. An assurance of realness
Soul dressing ©️Vcl
In the dead of night I ponder
all my stones of awkward weight
Mentally skipping them o’r the water
of my mind’s achromatic lake.
Casting stones of dreams and wishes
skimming hopes and fears obscure
Tossing far across the tide line
stones I’ve gathered on the shore.
Sweet release I feel unburdened
As they sink down into the calm arcane
Yesterday’s stones are now a memory
I stoop and gather an untouched day .
I make things complicated for myself and chaotic, so I feel unsettled, and then the challenge is to make something structured and complete emerge from that.
I am packing for a trip. A short jaunt. But packing unsettles me. Do I really need 3 pairs of shoes? What if it rains? Where are my sunglasses?….and the beat goes on, la dee dah. Experience has shown that I overpack. If I’m not careful I will let my joy get stolen. And the ransom may be more than I want to pay.
So I’ve taken a breather. My packing will be complete. It always does. I am writing a poem to celebrate my freedom from packing blues, spilling chaotic thoughts, into a summer night wind that’s reflecting summer’s heat. ❤️
As the wind
my mind is wafting
in and out
of conscious thought
whirling in a sea
Stirring up what
they aught not
old barriers worn
o’r what really matters
Unsettled as the wind. vcl©️
“The Louvre is a good book to consult, but it must only be an intermediary. The real and immense study that must be taken up is the manifold picture of nature.” – Paul Cezanne
I was perusing old photos today and amongst the pile, this one kinda stood out. There is an old saying by Osho that sums up my thoughts.. He says….
“If you love a flower, don’t pick it up. Because if you pick it up it dies and it ceases to be what you love.
So if you love a flower, let it be. Love is not about possession. Love is about appreciation.”
I was mindful. I didn’t pick it up with my hands. I did snap a picture though and take it home with me. I now can pick up this flower whenever I choose and it still gives me joy. The same joy that I felt when I first saw it. See the lush tones? The pinks and greens, each petal and flower a masterpiece? The open invitation to smell its nectar? If only it was scratch and sniff…if only to share with you dear reader…for my memory can conjure its perfume even now. 🎶I’ve got the joy, joy, joy, joy, down in my heart …where? …down in my heart to stay. 🎶
Saudade, the melancholia remains
after someone is gone.
Causing a sonorous emptiness,
melding emotions that overflow,
Ever mindful of your voice,
Your warm embrace.
I long for what cannot be.
Yet am content in what was.
Softly we sing
The sad song
Of lost love
And fickle fates
Waiting to reach
That fair city
In our minds
Although some say
They have been
Show us proof
We can believe
And welcome peace.
I lose my joy.
It is not gone, really,
Temporarily out of order.
I usually notice fairly quickly,
Not right away.
Then something happens.
Fortunately, I am reminded
At a juncture
That I have not seen it
For a while.
So far it has been
Only a stones- throw
And easily coaxed back