A Call For Canine Commendation (Inspiration Included)

Pug down.jpg

I'm in lush and lovely Dublin at the moment and this morning while having my porridge and tea I came across The Sunday Poem in the Sunday Independent newspaper. Much to my delight this week's poem is about dogs; divine coincidence!

It is a fun poem, I’ve included it below, and it jolted my memory about a poem I wrote at the passing of Ivan, my first dog as an adult. I am not generally known for my poetry skills, but the love and loss of one of my very dearest companions inspired me to take up my pen. As I grieved the loss of him in body, I also feared the loss of the intangibles. The sweet happiness he brought to me, his playful demeanor, all of the nicknames I had for him, and his silly and unique wooo-wooo-wooo that I’d never hear again. So I felt compelled to write it all down.

I don’t have the poem memorized and wrote it on paper almost nine years ago, so when I return home I’ll find it and post it here in his memory. In the meantime, there is a piece about Oliver, Ivan’s younger companion who passed away just as this website was launching almost two years ago now. It is not a poem, but a tribute nonetheless.

I encourage all of you to take up your pens, or to tap at your keyboard in honor of your dogs, both living and departed. Why wait to cherish their unique personalities and the joy they bring to your life?  Please share with us here.

And now, for inspiration, poet Stevie Smith’s doggy dalliance from Irish Sunday Independent:

O Pug!

O Pug, some people do not like you,
But I like you,
Some people say you do not breathe, you snore,
I don’t mind,
One person says he is always conscious of your behind,
Is that your fault?

Your own people love you,
All the people in the family that owns you
Love you: Good pug, they cry, Happy pug,

You are an old dog now
And in all your life
You have never had cause for a moment’s anxiety,
In those great eyes of yours,
Those liquid and protuberant orbs,
Lies the shadow of immense insecurity. There
Panic walks.

Yes, yes, I know
When your mistress is with you,
When your master
Takes you upon his lap,
Just then, for a moment,
Almost you are not frightened.

But at heart you are frightened, you always have been.

O Pug, obstinate old nervous breakdown,
In the midst of so much love,
And such comfort,
Still to feel unsafe and be afraid,

How one’s heart goes out to you!

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