Little dogs
sleeping in
the sunbeam.
Conserving
energy
for defence.
In case of
slamming car
doors or cats.
.
Tricube poem: 3 stanzas of 3 lines of 3 syllables.
poem- guard dogs not on duty September 5, 2022
poem- better out than in September 1, 2022
What is that stuff all over your back, dog?
In the slime is a white ball.
Gross botfly larva OUT.
Another kimo poem. 3 lines with 10-7-6 syllables. A kimo poem is supposed to be an image. I hope it isn’t too disgusting an image for you!
Our senior dog had a lump in her back that appeared and grew over the last week. She scratched it open today, and in cleaning and examining it, I discovered a parasite. 😦 I was going to attach a photo, but really. You don’t want to see the hole in the poor little dog or the 8mm critter that was in the hole!
poem-Why aren’t you playing? February 10, 2022
Ramona spent the weekend racing around
The agility arena with her latest training partner,
Sewing personalized dog coats for friends,
Feeding a platoon of poodles
And a concert of birds,
Laughing,
Doing,
Playing.
Ramona didn’t dwell on the degeneration
That made most days painful;
She didn’t focus on the losses,
The quotidian agonies of aging.
I posted a plaintive photo, poor dog begging,
“Play with me, Mom?”
Ramona typed back, “So why aren’t you playing?”
Mere hours later, Ramona left the earth.
Her last words to me ring a challenge
Amid these pain-filled days. We have just one life to embrace
What brings us joy. Despite all the grief,
The sun still rises; there are things to do. Today, find time
to play.
.
.
.
Rest in Peace, Ramona Stirling
poem-fluff November 16, 2019
Tight black ball
warm, curled against my hip
tail twitching in dreams.
Serious affection or just fluff?
It’s all the same to me.
pondering- suck it up October 11, 2019
I have a smart dog.
He’s a miniature poodle, and we’ve been doing trick training since he was a pup. He earned his first trick dog title at 8 months old. Now we’re working on his Trick Dog Championship and there are a couple of foundation things I realize I had not taught him. Since they’re needed for his championship video, I had to teach them.
Last night, I decided we would learn “hold an object in your mouth.” There are a couple of options to show this. He could walk with me with an object for 10 seconds or stationary hold something for 6 seconds. First, I tried just having him walk with his ball. He is capable of holding a ball indefinitely, but, he wants to give it to me to throw, so keeping it and walking up and down the hall at my side did not work.
I switched to the dowel. Holding a dowel is a foundation for carrying a dumb-bell which is a basic competitive obedience skill. I had been shown how to teach this and had a dowel, but I had never tried it with Kiltti. I filled a bowl of Cheerios (our training treat) and called him over. I attempted to put the dowel in his mouth. He was having NONE of it. He ran off and refused to come to me. Evil lady with nefarious plotting in mind!
I went and got a leash. He welcomed the leash, and then regretted it when I led him back to the couch. I looped the leash around my leg, and we tried again. I opened his mouth and set the dowel behind his canines. I gently held his bottom jaw and told him how talented and amazing he was.
His eyes told me he was not stupid enough to believe any nice things I was saying. I let go the jaw, he spit out the dowel he was given lots of treats. We spent about 2 minutes on this, with his occasional attempts at escape foiled by the leash, and then he was released to go play ball.
An hour later, I picked him up and we did it again. This time I didn’t have to hold the bottom of the jaw. I told him how brilliant he was as I lengthened the time. 2 minutes and many Cheerios later, off he went.
Third time, no problem. I filmed him holding the dowel on his own for 12 seconds, twice the time required. He still thinks this is a stupid trick, but he does it.
This is such a metaphor for some of my more recalcitrant students! They spit out the dowel of whatever lesson we’re working on. They don’t care that it’s a building block that is necessary for something they will need to do later on.
Those students who will give a couple of minutes get the task over with, are free to move onto things they enjoy more. The next time they try the task, it’s easier. Still not thrilling, but again, it just takes a small effort of cooperation to get it done. Those kids get a decent report card. No missing assignments! In my class, that invariably means at least a B. Their reward is success!
But those kids who are still feverishly spitting out the dowel?
The obstacle only gets larger when you fight it. Growth comes with trying new things and trusting there’s a reason to know something, that knowledge is power.
Learning how to ‘suck it up and get it done’ is a valuable life skill.
Here is a scintillating video of Kiltti holding his dowel. 🙂 Excuse my voice. Still dealing with a cold. 🙂
poem- tossing April 4, 2019
I toss.
You race.
You leap.
You flip.
You pant.
You return
on a joy-fueled frenzy
for the fun of the chase.
To vicariously share your bliss,
I toss.
.
.
(Just in from a supremely athletic game of fetch- with a Chuckit Flying Squirrel. Now a happily exhausted poodle is at my feet. I once saw a Ziggy cartoon that said he just wanted to go to dog heaven and toss balls for eternity. I sometimes feel like that is already my prime raison d’etre according to Kiltti! How about you? Do you play a lot of fetch?).
poem- tricks November 18, 2018
This time
I’m walking forward and you are beside me,
four paws padding along,
wet nose nudging my palm now and again,
assuring me you’re there.
This time
I waken to the whining cries
of someone small who is not you,
blessed and depressed.
Time tricks,
I see your silhouette,
hear a gentle woof on the wind,
look around knowing it’s not,
wishing it was.
Now, time
reminds me that life is a tapesty.
Joys are woven in the warp;
we weave grief in the weft,
dark streaks that might be tears,
alongside the lemon-bright thread of laughter.
This time,
I’m grateful to wrap myself tight
in the memories of you. Grateful
as I go about another day.
poem- woof August 26, 2018
For National Dog Day
.
.
You jump onto the end of the bed
as I sit to remove my slippers.
Before I can lift the sheets,
you’re at home on my pillow.
You sneak a glance, to see
whether you will get to stay.
Sorry pup,
perhaps another day.
![20180826_030603[1]](https://shawnbird.files.wordpress.com/2018/08/20180826_0306031.jpg)
poem-Wednesday September 13, 2017
I woke to my alarm’s
jaunty greeting, lay lulled, wondering where you were,
until I found the sense of you, pressed against my shoulder blades.
I lay, enjoying the warm weight of you,
until the alarm started up again.
It meant it this time.
So, regretfully,
I pulled away from you,
buried my face in your warm belly,
said farewell as you stretched and smiled up at me.
Wednesday will be a long day apart,
but I will return,
and you’ll be waiting,
eagerly.
.
.
.
(a little homage to my canine companion!)
poem- pocketful November 14, 2016
Old blazer.
I reach into the pocket:
A piece of plastic wrapper and a hole.
While pristine on the outside,
Both sides within are eaten through.
Instantly,
the ghost of an old dog is in the room with me,
the metronome of his tail slowly waving
while he looks away
to hide the twinkle in his eye.
Shawn L. Bird 