Writers & Dogs

I am as confounded by dogs as I am indebted to them. 

                                              ~ Roger Caras

I share my life with two dogs, Jack & Joey.  Jack was a rescue I adopted in 2006. In the weeks and months following the death of my partner in 2011, he saved my life.  I cannot imagine how lonely my apartment would have been without Jack there to greet me every night, or sleep next to me.

This past July, Joey joined our household.  He was just five weeks old, born on a farm, and he was placed in my arms with a homemade twine leash by two teenage girls who used the annual Delhi Daze to find homes for Joey and his siblings.  It took less than five minutes for the four puppies to be snatched up.

I would never have thought of myself as the proud dog person I have become.  I would never imagined my dogs would become my muses (oh, how I despise that word), but their snuffling and romping and furry selves show up regularly in my poetry.

Today, however, Joey tested the writer. 

Like any writer, I have books.  Lots of books.  This week, I received a copy of Tim Gunn's latest fashion book (confession: I have seen every episode of Project Runway) and 'The Shape of Poetry' signed by one of my poetic mentors, Peter Meinke.  The books were on the coffee table, but while I was working, Joey dragged them into the bedroom and made confetti of Mr. Gunn (in fashion, one day you're in, the next, you're a dog toy).  Poetry did not taste as good; Meinke's book suffered only a couple of tooth marks.

Sure, I raised my voice while picking up the shredded pages; scolding Joey for such a desecration.  Then we went for a walk in the brisk autumn afternoon, my anger forgotten, and now he's sleeping at my feet as I write this. You can only forgive a face like Joey's.  You can only see poems in those sad, brown eyes.