“There are dogs and dogs. I was among the chosen.” Wislawa Szymborska, Monologue of a Dog, Pg. 3.
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The Golden Globe
After dinner Suzy and I go out into the backyard and play.
The evening heat of the sun warms my back. Dampness hides between the blades of grass and rises to cool my paws. The contrast between the two is very pleasant.
I know that the sun is a round burning light in the sky. I know that the grass grows out of the earth but I see them as the same color. To my eyes, they are both different shades of yellow.
Flowers are nice too. Their varying odors blow past my nose on breezes. But I know I do not see all the flower colors that Suzy names for me.
When we play, Suzy likes to throw a ball and I jump up and catch it in my jaws. It is a little ball. It fits inside my mouth just fine. And I don’t have any trouble leaping up to snatch it out of the air.
But I do have trouble seeing it.
Suzy says it is an ‘orange’ ball so it should stand out well in contrast to the ‘green’ grass in the yard. She says it is the same color as the sun, which she says is a golden globe hanging in the sky. I’m not sure what ‘hanging in the sky’ means. When snow covers the ground, Mother and Father and Suzy hang ornaments on a tree in the livingroom. Does someone hang the ‘golden globe?’
I don’t know what ‘orange’ is and I don’t know what ‘green’ is either. I know what ‘yellow’ is. It is the color of the lemons on the neighbors’ lemon tree. I also know what ‘red’ and ‘blue’ are. Red is blood and blue is sky when there are no clouds.
To me, green is a smell. It is ‘refreshing.’ That’s the word that Suzy uses when she drinks cool water on a hot day. Grass and spinach and the tea that Mother says is ‘good for you’ all have similar smells, so I can guess that young leaves in spring are some shade of green.
The ball smells, of course. When I get close enough to it, I pick up that odor. I describe it as a combination of the smell of the tires on the outside of the car and the vinyl seat covers inside. In daylight, I can find the ball by its odor.
And as the light dims Suzy loses the advantage of all the colors she can see. I see better in less light. And I always see motion really well – much better than any human, in any light. Just make that little ball fly and I can find it.
Then, I’ll snatch it right out of the air.
Roog
with apologies to Philip K. Dick
Mother calls their special days, ‘garbage days’. Large, powerful men wearing special uniforms and big, leathery gloves drive up to our house on these days. They pick up the garbage cans at the concrete border of our street called the ‘curb’. They empty them into the back of their huge, noisy truck. Then, they throw them back down on the lawn and drive to the next house.
Early on the morning of their special day, Father drags the cans to the curb. Normally, they sit beside the set of steps that lead from the kitchen door to the side yard. Mother places her offerings in the cans. On the day before they come around, she searches the kitchen for goodies for them. She tells Suzy to gather any offerings she has been saving for them and put them into a can. She tells Father the same thing. I have brought bones but Puff never gives up a thing. Continue reading
April Quote
“If you are given a choice, you believe you have acted freely. This is one of the darkest of all psychological secrets.”
Teller, of Penn and Teller, in Trick of the Eye, Pg. 31, March, 2012 Smithsonian
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Published
My first book of poetry entitled, A Meeting of Minds: poems from the two cultures was released on April 11, 2012. Can also be purchased on Amazon.
Posted in Poetry
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Who Follows Whom
Puff and I are both supposed to sleep in our beds in the laundry room off the kitchen. But we rarely do. I camp out in the hallway outside the closed door of Suzy’s room. If Mother or Father gets up first, I sneak back to my bed. Or I settle down next to my dish as though I am waiting to be fed. As soon as they disappear into the shower or into other rooms, I pad back to my place. Continue reading
Choice is not Freedom (See April Quote)
I dream a lot about running wild, leaving the safety of the house and yard and being free. In my dreams I am a wolf or even a coyote. I know almost nothing about the places where these creatures who look so much like me roam. I don’t think I know enough to be able to survive in them. Continue reading
Forest Voices
We leave the house – all four of us – get in the car and drive away.
Father says, “We’re going on a picnic, so everyone just relax and try to enjoy themselves.” He looks at Mother out of the sides of his eyes. My head is thrust between their two seats and I catch the look. Continue reading
Books
Mother and Father say, “Suzy has learned to read even though she is only six years old.” They make many proud gestures when they say it as though they hold their tails high in the air. The books that Suzy can read are very heavy. I think they are proud of the weight of the books. Continue reading
A Room of her Own
Mother smells like her kitchen. “It is my room,” she says. ‘It’s the only place in my life where I make the decisions.”
She doesn’t have to tell me. My nose tells me they are part of one another. I smell from the flea powder that Mother and Father use to dust my bed. Mother smells from the spices she puts in the food that our family eats. Continue reading
