Claim

by Kasey Jueds

Once during that year
when all I wanted
was to be anything other
than what I was,
the dog took my wrist
in her jaws. Not to hurt
or startle, but the way
a wolf might, closing her mouth
over the leg of another
from her pack. Claiming me
like anything else: the round luck
of her supper dish or the bliss
of rabbits, their infinite
grassy cities. Her lips
and teeth circled
and pressed, tireless
pressure of the world
that pushes against you
to see if you're there,
and I could feel myself
inside myself again, muscle
to bone to the slippery
core where I knew
next to nothing
about love. She wrapped
my arm as a woman might wrap
her hand through the loop
of a leash—as if she
were the one holding me
at the edge of a busy street,
instructing me to stay.

How It Is with Us, and How It Is with Them

by Mary Oliver

We become religious,
then we turn from it,
then we are in need and maybe we turn back.
We turn to making money,
then we turn to the moral life,
then we think about money again.
We meet wonderful people, but lose them
in our busyness.
We're, as the saying goes, all over the place.
Steadfastness, it seems,
is more about dogs than about us.
One of the reasons we love them so much.

Dog Music

by Paul Zimmer

Amongst dogs are listeners and singers.
My big dog sang with me so purely,
puckering her ruffled lips into an O,
beginning with small, swallowing sounds
like Coltrane musing, then rising to power
and resonance, gulping air to continue—
her passion and sense of flawless form—
singing with me, but mostly for the art of dogs.

We joined in many fine songs—"Stardust,"
"Naima," "The Trout," "Jeg elsker Dig," "Perdido."
She was a great master and died young,
leaving me with unrelieved grief,
her talents known only to a few.

Now I have a small dog who does not sing
but listens with discernment, requiring
skill and spirit in my falsetto voice.
When I sing her name and words of love,
Andante, con brio, vivace, adagio,
at times she is so moved she turns
to place her paw across her snout,
closing her eyes, sighing like a girl
I held and danced with years ago.

But I am a pretender to dog music.
Indeed, true strains rise only from
the rich, red chambers of a canine heart;
these melodies best when the moon is up,
listeners and singers together and apart,
beyond friendship and anger,
far from any human imposter—
songs of bones, turds, conquests,
hunts and scents, ballads of
long nights lifting to starlight.

If I Were a Dog

by Richard Shelton

I would trot down this road sniffing
on one side and then the other
peeing a little here and there
wherever I felt the urge
having a good time what the hell
saving some because it's a long road

but since I'm not a dog
I walk straight down the road
trying to get home before dark

if I were a dog and I had a master
who beat me I would run away
and go hungry and sniff around
until I found a master who loved me
I could tell by his smell and I
would lick his face so he knew

or maybe it would be a woman
I would protect her we could go
everywhere together even down this
dark road and I wouldn't run from side
to side sniffing I would always
be protecting her and I would stop
to pee only once in awhile

sometimes in the afternoon we could
go to the park and she would throw
a stick I would bring it back to her

each time I put the stick at her feet
I would say this is my heart
and she would say I will make it fly
but you must bring it back to me
I would always bring it back to her
and to no other if I were a dog

Do You Love Me?

by Robert Wrigley

She's twelve and she's asking the dog,
who does, but who speaks
in tongues, whose feints and gyrations
are themselves parts of speech.

They're on the back porch
and I don't really mean to be taking this in
but once I've heard I can't stop listening. Again
and again she asks, and the good dog

sits and wiggles, leaps and licks.
Imagine never asking. Imagine why:
so sure you wouldn't dare, or couldn't care
less. I wonder if the dog's guileless brown eyes

can lie, if the perfect canine lack of abstractions
might not be a bit like the picture books
she "read" as a child, before her parents' lips
shaped the daily miracle of speech

and kisses, and the words were not lead
and weighed only air, and did not mean
so meanly. "Do you love me?" she says
and says, until the dog, sensing perhaps

its own awful speechlessness, tries to bolt,
but she holds it by the collar and will not
let go, until, having come closer,
I hear the rest of it. I hear it all.

She's got the dog's furry jowls in her hands,
she's speaking precisely
into its laid-back, quivering ears:
"Say it," she hisses, "say it to me."

Christmas is Hard

I don't understand, you want me to sit where?

Oh, okay, lay down?

Wait, lay down and look where?

Awwwwww . . . . .

http://youtu.be/X60zhjvMqCs

Dogs

by Aaron Kramer

Looking foolish next to the tree in a one o'clock rain:
umbrella aloft, the leash in my other hand—
I wanted my late-coming neighbor to understand
that dogs are worth the expense, inconvenience, and pain;

their tails are truthful, no coiled rebellion beneath
a loving look; they are quick to kiss you, and quick
to fetch for you, and —should you raise a stick
threateningly—they are quick to show their teeth;

and better still (but this I never revealed),
when you bring downfall home, the death of a hope,
their nonchalant manner does more for you than a drink;
and best of all, when triumph's to be unsealed,
such lack of respect they show for the envelope,
—your fingers halt, the brain cools, and you think.

Dog Owners: Holy Cow this is Funny

http://youtu.be/VMeXGE_a8Gg

Yappy Hour

So I heard about this dog-friendly hotel downtown that hosts a "Yappy Hour" once a month. People bring their dawgs and enjoy snacks and drinks. So we decided to try it out. We had no idea what we were in for . . .

The Hotel Indigo in downtown San Diego designed a 9th floor deck specifically for dawgs complete with a dawgie pool and a patch of grass for, well, you know . . .

There were spectacular views of the city . . .

As well as the Padres game . . .

There were about 50 dawgs all off-leash - running around the deck, chewing on each other. There was a bar with beer, wine, cocktails and snacks. there was even a DJ keepin the party goin'.

It was waaaaaay fun and we totally plan on going back next month. We learned that the party is not actually sponsored by Hotel Indigo but by City Dog San Diego . Check out their website for next month's Yappy Hour - see you there!

Bliss

This is my big dumb dawg on my "biggish" wood deck.

I can't tell you how happy this makes me - but I will try. When I see the dawg splayed out in the sun on the deck like this, I assume he is in a state of total bliss - all his cares lost in the heat of the sun and the smell of redwood. I wish I could be that content - if only for a moment. I pray that my daughter will experience that contentment - the sun on her skin, the wood beneath her, knowing she is fully cared for, fully safe, fully loved. I had an assistant once who had a photo of her at about age 18, asleep against her father's chest on the couch and I instantly thought, I want my girl to be that happy.

For now, this will do . . .

It Wasn't Me! You Have No Proof!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dgeWQz5P6UQ&feature=player_embedded

This Might be my New Favorite Site

LINK

Buckley, You're the Only One Who Understands Me . . .

LOVE IT

I Love These Guys

Happy National Dog Day!

More dog goodness from Lileks:

Gave the dog a scrap of pizza, then took it back because my wife reminded me I should cut it up for him so he can’t eat it all at once and enjoys it more.

But it’s possible he’s frustrated because it takes longer to eat.

She didn’t agree. I think she’s wrong. For dogs there are two states: FOOD and NOT FOOD. Once they hit the second state the fact that there was ever FOOD in the first place is forgotten; they are now experiencing NOT FOOD, and so the mission is now FOOD. Which is why he drove us nuts today. From me he expects no scraps while I eat. I never gave him any. As Alpha, I eat what I want, and if there’s anything left, that’s another issue. But the rest of the pack always shared , out of that peculiar human virtue called kindness – or, more likely, their inability to turn down that pleading, curious face – so he has, over the years, come to view their food as his food. So. When they come home after I’ve had supper, he harangues them. When they eat separate meals spaced a half-hour apart, he has to yell at them. When everything is done but there are still visual and scent-related clues that the possibility of FOOD exists, he will bark to be let outside where we sit, BARK to demand we go inside, BARK when we get there, BARK when we leave in exasperation, and BARK until someone does something stupid, like give him a few bits of kibble, which guarantees more barking tomorrow.

The wife and child say “he feels cheated” otherwise, but I try to explain that they are investing human emotions into a rather simple creature. What dogs want is this: they want an answer. Is there someone at the door? Yes or no. Is a walk about to happen? Yes or no. Is there more food? Yes or no. If the expectation is YES and the answer is NO, then they put their head down and stare and sigh, that wonderfully human gust of disappointment, but it’s the sound they make when they get the answer, and it’s the wrong one. But that’s okay. It fits in the order of things. Dogs hate uncertainty. It makes them neurotic.

My dog’s not neurotic. He just has his priorities straight and knows what works. From that we could all take a lesson.

But wait . . . there's more!



Dear Dawg:

Quote of the Day

I just talked to an animal. Not in the form of speech; Jasper’s lost most of his hearing. But I went outside to write in the gazebo, and he wanted to come outside because something might be going on. (He has not yet hit the old-dog point where he rarely cares what’s going on.) He walked up to the door, looked. I looked. He hit the door with his paw. I didn’t feel like getting up right at that exact moment. He barked – a short sharp note. Okay then.

That qualifies as conversation.

-Lileks

It's Exactly What it Looks Like

A new ice cream van with tasty treats specifically for canines will have man's best friend howling with delight.

Old Spice + Dawgs?