The Prompt: Literate for a Day—Someone or something you can’t communicate with through writing can understand every single word you write today, for one day only. What do you tell them?
Darling little Frida, dearest Diego, too.
I have a little something I have to say to you.
If you’d like to go out walking every single day,
you have to start responding when I shout out, “Hey!”
That word means “Pay attention!” Its volume says “Right now!”
It doesn’t mean to take off after every passing cow
pulling me right after you, cause it is two to one,
and since my last foot surgery, I don’t much like to run!
Another little something I’d really like to tell
is that it was all your fault the last time that I fell.
When one of you runs toward the lake, the other towards the town,
your leashes wrap around me and the way I go is down!
Please don’t jump up on the screen whenever mealtime’s near.
I’ve had it mended more than once—a dozen times, I fear.
If you sit there quietly, your meal will be served fast.
I tell this to you each day, but my words don’t seem to last.
Another little something that needs badly to be said
is that it would be lovely if you’d shit behind the shed
instead of on the footpath or all over the grass,
for pooping over everything is really rather crass.
You don’t have to answer that dog across the street,
for he sets a barking record that you don’t have to beat.
The fighting cocks can crow without your high accompaniment.
(Albeit that your howls are growing quite magnificent.)
The hound of the Baskervilles was acting on a curse
and now that you have matched him, there’s no need to rehearse.
The owl will hoot hoot every night no matter what you do.
Ignore him, please. This is your mother begging it of you!
The dog food is for you dogs, and the cat food is for cats.
If you keep forgetting this, it’s going to drive me bats!
It does no good to try to knock cat dishes from the wall.
Those antics will not ever get you anywhere at all!
Diego, when I get home, please don’t drive Frida away!
You won’t believe there’s love enough, no matter what I say.
I have one hand for each of you, so let her have her share.
You are a dog and not a pig, so gluttony’s not fair.
Please don’t eat the cat bed and please don’t chase the cat.
Bullying’s not an answer. I will have none of that!
You found me on the street and did all that you could do
to make me bring you home with me to join my motley crew.
I am allergic to you dogs, and also to each cat,
although I know that you cannot be cognizant of that.
And so you want to sleep real near and have me stroke you often.
But when I do, it ends in itching, nose-blowing and coughin’.
Your species is a puzzle to which I don’t have a key.
Though it was at your insistence that I brought you home with me,
why is it every single time an open gate you see,
you’re through it, running down the street, so anxious to be free?
(for a similar prose answer to this prompt, go Here)
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 
And to your lovely poem
I offer this prologue:
their response in unison,
“I’m a dog, I’m a dog, I’m a dog.”
(We don’t have any animals but my boyfriend loves dogs and whenever we pass one he chants “I’m a dog, I’m a dog, I’m a dog” as if that is constantly running through their heads.)
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Ha. Your response is always my reward for a poem well spent….
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That just left me with a huge smile on my face. I wonder what they would say? 🙂
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I was thinking exactly the same thing…Perhaps it should be the next prompt?
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nice poem! i think the last time i fell was jogging with my dog too. i thought keeping your balance with four legs would be easier 😉
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Good prompt, Chic. You get 1/10 credit for the poem.
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wow, i’m honored. if i may i would like to take the 1/10 with the line, “…that it would be lovely if you’d shit behind the shed…” it seems applicable in so many ways!
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And of course, it took some time for delicate me to allow crass me to use the “s” word. Now you claim it proudly!
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i struggle with crass me all the time. delicate me usually wins out because crass me doesn’t know himself very well.
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Loved this. Could see and hear it all, as I have seen and heard it all before. The babies look so tiny in this pic. Have you been shrinking the kids?
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Caught me! That hot water they drink works wonders..shrinks them from the inside.
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Judy, which dog is which? I want to believe that the yellow dog is Freida! They are very cute. I can’t resist them. Mine make a break for the front door every time I answer the door. My bedroom door is right next to the front door. I have gotten into the habit of calling them into my room and closing the door after them otherwise they are out the front door like a shot the second I open the door. And chasing them just makes them impossible to catch! If they do get out I just close the door and check back in 5 or10 minutes for when they are ready to come home!
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Frida is the blonde and Diego the black devil! I do the same when they “escape.” Does no good to chase them and they always come home.
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Judy,
this is so lovely, i really enjoyed it
Best to You
john
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Thanks, John. I sent in a prompt suggesting we hear what the object or creature says back. Perhaps I’ll do it even if they don’t choose the prompt! Judy
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Love this one! Of course, I have 2 dogs and 2 cats myself, but I walk the dogs separately because I can’t deal with being pulled in 2 directions…AND when they both decide to chase the same thing at once, it’s too much for me.
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I can’t even handle one! And they have a big yard to run around in, plus a roof and can run rings around outside of the house.
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I have to post here a friend’s reaction to my poem to Frida and Diego. Here is her reply:
From: Linda
To: Judy
Subject: Re: An Ode to Dog Companions
Date: Tue, 11 Nov 2014 16:06:30 -0500
Well, about the running away…they always come back
I know what it’s like to be feeling like that.
About eating the food that belongs to the cat
I know what it’s like to be feeling like that.
About misunderstood vocals you say are commands
At some point in life one must take a stand.
Speaking of pooping, I am just appalled
we all need our privacy, even a dog.
We all have requests, the list is extensive
But mowing your toys is getting expensive.
As you can guess I just came in from mowing over another toy to add to the 6 I have mowed over before. I am afraid to sew them because I am afraid my stitches, being on the outside, will unravel and bind their intestines.—Linda
Judy’s note: I might add that at one time she had 7 dogs and 7 cats. I believe the dog count is now down to 5, unless there have been recent additions I haven’t been informed about.
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Linda, that was a great reply. Is it too much to ask you to write a daily poetic response to Judy’s blog? Mowing season should be coming to a halt soon, and Santa will be bringing a new supply of toys to your babies, I am sure, so not all hope is lost. Pabu is furiously ripping up her Kong toy and shredding purple threads all over the rug this very moment. Her Kong looks like it has been through a mower. She is relentless. Carries it with her to her food bowl and outside when she “visits the powder room” as she is too elegant to shit behind the shed.
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