Tag Archives: Dogs

My Sweet Pea

I named her Bette, after Bette Davis, as a complement to Bogart. She was the best Christmas present I’ve ever received. Sometimes I called her Sweet Pea or Peeper. You’ve never met a more adorable, sweet, and perfect blond Cocker Spaniel puppy in all your life, I guarantee it.

Until the moment at Bo’s food bowl when a quick growl and nip left her eye hanging from the socket. The vet couldn’t save the eye. He suggested perhaps we should put her to sleep and get another puppy who wasn’t imperfect. Eighteen years later, when the time to put her to sleep finally came, I reminisced about her life and didn’t regret a single moment of having a one-eye dog. And it kind of made me chuckle to think she was named after an actress known for her “Bette Davis eyes.”

Seeing winter days
Bring us fun filled holidays
Pain oft’ in the mix

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It’s Haibun Monday at dVerse Poets Pub today and Victoria is asking us to consider the compelling world-view of Wabi-Sabi in our Haibuns. “Wabi-Sabi is the art of imperfection. It is the recognition that everything real is transient and imperfect. It recognizes the circle of life—that things die, break, disintegrate—and to find therein beauty.” I almost wrote about my current one-eyed dog Roman, but I’ve written about him quite a bit. So I decided to relate a true story from over 30 years ago wherein I learned that there is nothing wrong with a little imperfection.

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I’m Not a Pirate

A pirate’s eye patch
I won’t wear
Strap a peg toe on me
You shan’t dare

You think it’s funny
I don’t
Laugh all you will
Said Roman, I won’t

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At dVerse Poets Pub today, Lillian is calling for a little anthropomorphism. I had to make mine 30 words in keeping with my self-imposed National Poetry Month challenge. This poem is what I imagine my dog Roman’s reaction is to my son’s suggestion that we dress him as a pirate for Halloween. The poor dog only has one eye and recently had to have a toe removed due to a tumor.

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The One-Eyed Wonder

I tell my dog to stay
so he promptly sits
He just wants to play
It’s a battle of wits
A quick game of fetch fits
with the cat’s added comedy
when he jumps and flits

It seemed like quite the tragedy
when the poor dog lost his left eye
Nonetheless he is wicked smart
and when he is wont to cry
it breaks my heart
Inwardly I moan
my heart’s not made of stone

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The Meeting the Bar prompt at dVerse Poets Pub today is to write a Bouts-Rimés (pronounced Boo-ReeMay) with a given set of end rhyme words. When I read the word choices, I immediately was inspired to write this poem about my pets, both of whom had to go to the vet this morning. Our vet called Roman her “one-eyed wonder.”

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An Unexplainable Feeling

The current prompt at dVerse Poets Pub is to write poetry as a vehicle for emotion, which is pretty much what most poetry is anyway. When I read the prompt, I immediately knew the emotion I wanted to write about, but wasn’t sure how I wanted to write about it. And I’ve spent most of the last two days making cookies and deviled eggs, avoiding the emotion I’m struggling with. Then, with 3 hours left to post, I realized what I wanted to write. So here is my haibun for the prompt.

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Our vet says it’s for the best and will make him feel much better. And the veterinary ophthalmologist didn’t say it was the only option, but she did suggest it was the best for him. I try to tell myself it’s no big deal. As I said to both vets and several other people I’ve talked to about it, it’s not like I’ve never had a one-eyed dog before. Bette lost an eye when she was only 7 weeks old, and she lived to be the best 18-year-old Cocker Spaniel there ever was. So why do I have this sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach now that we’ve made the appointment? Why am I second guessing whether maybe, just maybe, having to have drops in his eye several times a day for the rest of his life might be better than having that eye removed? He can’t see out of it anyway; hasn’t for years with that cataract.

Perhaps it’s the regret that we didn’t have the cataract removed years ago, which might have prevented glaucoma now. But as my cousin Noryce says, you can’t go back to Tuesday, or when Roman was only 3 and first showed signs of the cataract. You can’t go back, you can only move forward, even if that means doing something you’d rather not do when you know it’s in the best interest of someone, or some dog, else. But still I’m sad—that’s not really the right word, I don’t even know what the right word is—I’m angry that I can’t go back and do it all again, avoid this inevitable, remaining option. I love my little dog, and I’ll love him just as much, if not more, when he only has one eye. Maybe that’s the crux of what I’m feeling—love and empathy. I’ll hold onto that and to the faith that God loves him, too. He is, after all, named after one of the books of God’s Holy Word.

Turning a blind eye
to the pain and suffering
is not an option

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Roman

Black
Fluffy canine
Cutest little sweetie
Tail wagger of mine
Friend

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Unconditional Love

The prompt over at dVerse Poets Pub today is to write a poem inspired by the art of Danny Gregory. I picked one of Danny’s sketches that appealed to me because it was of dogs. I love dogs!

(c) Danny Gregory

(c) Danny Gregory

Unconditional Love

Love abounds
It can be found
most anywhere you look

But unconditional love
is hard to find
except in the Good Book

and in the wag of a dog’s tail
no matter now long
your quick trip to the store took

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My Dog in the Sunlight

The challenge over at dVerse Poets Pub today is to write a poem in the style of the impressionist painters, with broad brush strokes to quickly capture the fleeting mood of the moment. I immediately thought of one of my favorite things.

My Dog in the Sunlight

Lazily he flops in a pool of sunlight
upon the summer warm deck
black fur soaking up the warmth,
the heat of a day to be captured
in his little dog mind and soul

White hairs peppered throughout his fur
almost sparkle in rays of the sun
but not quite, give him a gray hue
at just the right angle
like an old dog, though the white hairs
have been there for years

He sighs, his cute little dog sigh
basking in my presence,
staying only as long as I do

If I rise for a drink of water
or to answer a ringing phone
the moment is gone as quickly as it began
and the sunlight must be content
to warm only the deck

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