Poetry Out Loud: Walking the Dog

Walking the Dog There was a message on my phone. My dog was ready to come home, they said. It was just her ashes, they didn’t say. Never one to be put on a shelf, we took one last walk together around the farm, her cremains, I guess, tucked under my arm. She usually bounds … Read more

Requiem for an Old Truck

req·ui·em/ˈrekwēəm/noun 1.(especially in the Roman Catholic Church) a Mass for the repose of the souls of the dead. There is something about a three-quarter-ton pick-up, once I manage to make the standing leap into the cab and crank up the air conditioning to the “jet-engine” setting, that seductively whispers in my ear, “Perfect Purse.” It’s … Read more

Photo & Poem: Old Dog

A deliberate old dog pacing the yard fence with gray dreadlocks and a stiff stride. A mixed-breed badly constructed, a heavy body on spindly legs, but no longer content to nap. He has worn a path but remains a bit bewildered, not trusting his eyes or ears, his nose intent on the breeze. The distance … Read more

Things My Dogs Don’t Care About.

I’m the kind of person who has big dogs. I always have been, not that my dogs care. I have no excuse for my current condition. I was trying to remember the last time I picked out a dog. That’s the thing about making friends with rescuers. Dogs just arrive somehow. Sure, you said yes … Read more

Calming Signals: Sleeping with a Reactive Dog

    I don’t mind bragging; I’ve slept with some very fine dogs in the course of my long and blessed life. Some say I can’t tell a good dog from a bad one but of course, I can. How else would this have happened? It’s been six years now since my arranged marriage with … Read more

Calming Signals and Preacher Man: Still “Reactive” After All These Years

Bear with me, please. I miss my dogs, one in particular. I’m in Dunedin, and he’s 12,620 km away. It sounds even farther in Newzealandish, doesn’t it? It’s National Pet Day back home, I know he is keeping an eye on the door. The Dude Rancher takes good and kind care of the dogs while I’m … Read more

Photo & Poem: Calendar

Tufting the Corgi Do I need a sweater? The evening air has cooled thinner, the time on the clock doesn’t match the light outside. An orange dog jumps up, not quite small enough for a lap, fidgeting a spot close but looking away, air-licking anxiety. Is he seven now? A few soft barks, his toenails … Read more