Zoe has now appropriated my favorite sweater in addition to my favorite nightgown. Soon I’ll need to go on a shopping spree.
Yes that’s right. We took a special trip up the coast to visit an oceanside restaurant named “La Mosca” or “The Fly.” My friends went for the fresh fish, I went for the views but ended up coming home with a bonus..a tiny puppy that we named “Zoe” who will be coming home to San Juan Cosala with me tomorrow. She’s already had a number of adventures, as have we, being her companions. You will no doubt see more of her in the future. Luckily, there were more birds than flies at La Mosca.
Here is one video of Zoe at play. I’ll add another later. The best one I took, I forgot to turn the video recorder on!!! Of course.
Click on photos to enlarge.
An Avid Fetcher’s Soliloquy
Whose house this is I so well know.
She’s swinging in the hammock, though.
I think she came to catch some zzzs,
not for a Scottie on her knees,
but still, I charm her with my eyes
and my bigger brother vies
to win attention and her pats,
but I want something else, and that’s
a tennis ball thrown just for me.
I drop it now beside her knee.
She reaches out and throws it up
and I’m a very happy pup
as I race to go retrieve it
knowing that she will receive it
once again, and then again,
for that’s the way it’s always been
ever since I can remember,
mom compliant, me so limber
that sometimes I catch that round
ball before it hits the ground.
and though her left arm’s occupied
with scratching Diego’s tough hide,
her right arm is my provenance,
and so I bark and jump and dance,
encouraging throw after throw
so I can follow where they go,
and when at night I go to sleep,
upon my dog bed, burrowing deep,
I pray the God of dogs protects
mom’s throwing arm from all defects.
For dVerse poets, the prompt is to write a soliloquy.
I wrote this one on International Dogs Day, Aug 16, 2021.
Thanks to Victoria Slotto for pointing that out to me.
As I made my evening smoothie, I found the remains of my afternoon meal on the countertop. Hating to waste it, I decided to see what parts of it the dogs would eat. They’d already had their own meal hours before, but this is what I took out to the doggie domain–and the result: (Click on photos to enlarge and read what happened.)
What will a dog eat? Clearly, everything!!!
Click on photos to enlarge.
I snapped the first photo with my phone one late night/early morning, returning to my house from the studio. The second is my studio from my chair, the third is Morrie and Diego coming to tell me it is midnight and time to bome back up to the house. If they aren’t inside the studio, they are usually as close to the door outside as possible, and never fail to come to try to lure me up to the house at midnight. The fourth photo is looking out from my studio to the lake and the third is perhaps not quite legit. Does a doorway qualify as a door?
Click on photos to enlarge.
Cats Trump Dogs
My dogs are perspicacious with insights most profound.
They’re aware of every flutter, on top of every sound.
Their vigilance professional, with duty it is fraught.
Nary a squirrel has crossed the yard without being caught!
No passerby is overlooked, no lizard, snake or newt.
Their senses are omniscient, their judgments most astute.
They keep my backyard creature-free, pristine for lawn and blossom.
They will not suffer gopher or mole or vole or possum.
Guard duty’s not a hobby. They see it as a task
that they were truly born for. I need not even ask.
The cats they see as horrors—wily and uncouth.
They cannot bear their presence. They see it as the truth
that cats are unorthodox. Not banished to the ground,
they roam the roof and wall and trees, rambling all around.
They tease the dogs from far above, safe from all their fury.
Sauntering off slowly, for they aren’t in any hurry.
Prompt words for the day are professional, unorthodox, hobby, perspicacious, truth and horror.