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Verse Dedications |
Here is one of the few pieces of prose or poetry that you will come across that speaks of a dog's owner as being a female! So now we can officially give that tired, old phrase of patriachal elitism, ie. “dogs are a man's best friend”, the boot. Or better still, give his boot to your wee doggie and she'll happily tear it apart for you!
If anyone out there has other female generated poems, with a canine focus, then we would love to receive them for posting in this section.
Shalom,
Susan
A DOG'S PRAYER
O Mother of all humans
Make my owner faithful to other beings,
As I am faithful to her.
Give her a cheerful face,
To match my wagging tail.
Give her a spirit of gratitude,
Like unto that which she can see in my eyes.
Make her as patient as I am,
Who await her footsteps uncomplainingly for hours.
Fill her with my watchfulness, my courage
And my readiness to sacrifice comfort for life.
Keep her always young in heart
and full of the spirit of play,
even as I am.
Make her as good a person as I am a dog;
Make her worthy of me.
And above all,
May she be as open-faced and undeceptive as I, her dog.
Amen
Reprinted in the Bulletin of St Peter's and Paul's Parish, Kiama, NSW Australia
This poem was sent to us by Sarah, from Cobargo, NSW, Australia. She says in her email that she can't help crying every time she reads it.
For all of us who have a connection with our dog cousins this is an especially hard poem to read. For the story of this innocent girl-dog Laika is shocking in many ways.
What hope can we draw from all this? Heaps actually, remember this quote? "He prayeth best, who loveth best, both man and bird and beast."
Well then, "Don't forget to say your prayers!"
Susan
LAST THOUGHTS OF A FAMOUS DOG
In his grey coat, he seemed a friendly man,
leaning towards me with a piece of meat.
I followed, jumped into his van -
the last I saw of my Moscow streets.
We drove through suburbs I didn't know,
I snuffled and scratched at the bars.
Those first flakes of Autumn snow
hit the windscreen and drifted off like stars.
A uniformed man lifted the boom,
we passed through the gates of an institute.
Washed and fed, kept in a sterile room,
I was named and numbered - a new recruit.
I remember a dark journey in another van
down roads that never seemed to end.
I sniffed the frozen air of Kazakhstan,
and scented something burnt in the wind.
From my porthole I see the sky's arc expand,
below me, the vanishing cosmodrome.
Noise and killing heat. Now I understand-
this famous dog is never coming home.
Poem by Mike Ladd, Australia (presenter and producer of the ABC's Radio National program – PoeticA).
There are no fees or conditions attached to our efforts as we consider it a privilege to work for our beloved animal friends and their caring owners.