The dogs are sad
since March
which is usually good dog-walking weather
cool and snappy on a dog’s wet nose
rich with scent, over-full of doggie news
but the dogs quickly sensed
that something was wrong
their barometers sagged with their tails
a sad indicator
they sense the extreme change in air pressure, like the baby elephant that rescued a little boy from the beach just before the tsunami hit, like the other elephants that bellowed and trumpeted warning tourists and citizens in vain
At first, the dogs were delirious with joy!
Bouncing off walls and sofas and floors!
Mommy’s home! Daddy’s home! This is great! Everybody’s home!
Hugs and kisses and treats and snuggles!
but those walks
The news wasn’t good
the doggie news
that they read on the tree roots, on the corners and curbstones
They sniff, sniff, sniff
sniff again
and slink away sad
not elated and full of fascination like they used to be
No more hugs from passing children
No more cookies or treats or pats from greeting friends
people pull their leashes away
The pointer
doesn’t point any more
he sneaks by hiding behind his long ears
his tail wiping the sidewalk
The ugly rescue dogs
used to be ecstatic to face the world with their mixed breed
all wrong and not cute
suddenly slowed to durges
scraping the ground
with their blunt ears and bony tails
The golden doodle twins
once in training for show
once joyous twin chaos
yanked back by a firm leash
gone, just gone
For a short time in April
the tails seemed to lift like flags no longer half-staff
for no reason at all as dog do,
for heat or cool, for rain or sun
dropped down again in June
Only one - an English cream golden -
prances in front of her healthy humans,
masks at their throats, at the ready, just in case they might need a mask,
her head up, her tail high
her long coat flowing like a stallion’s mane
That sheep dog on TV is a clue
confused and fearful, his head jerks back
from the masked girl that cradles his face in her hands
and the dogs that bark at masks
know something is wrong
But, Lou’s got it good
Lou is my spirit dog
a big bull I would name Tony if he were mine
Lou’s got it right
Lou is sleeping through
Patricia Goodwin is the author of When Two Women Die, about Marblehead legends and true crime and its sequel, Dreamwater, about the Salem witch trials and the vicious 11-year-old pirate Ned Low. Holy Days is her third novel, about the sexual, psychological seduction of Gloria Wisher and her subsequent transformation. Her latest novel is Low Flying, about two women suffering psychologically abusive marriages who find and nurture each other. Her newest poetry books are Telling Time By Apples, And Other Poems About Life On The Remnants of Olde Humphrey Farme, illustrated by the author, and Java Love: Poems of a Coffeehouse.
Within this blog, Patricia writes often about non-fiction subjects that inspire or disturb her, hopefully informing and inspiring people to be happy, healthy and free.
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