Doggerel

A Dog’s Life

 

Labradoodles French poodles, Albanian pomeroos

Shitzus, jackeroos, chichis,  Maltese  cockerpoos

Pups at home, dog and bone, pages on the net

Whaddya want, pay up front, anything we can get

Puppy eyes, cutest guys, curly, short haired, bald

Naming game, there’s no shame, what will it be called?

Bulky Staffs, long haired Afs, Bernards and Burmese

Wannabees accessories, poking out of gold Hermes

Cuddled dog, muddled dog, family adore

Dog hair, everywhere, muddy prints on floor

Kids love, push and shove, playing games all day

Long walks, learn to talk, holidays away

Kids grow, go slow, pack their cars and flown

Mum tired, dad wired, dog all alone

Handbag days, new baby phase, dog is second best

Bad dog, sad dog, making such a mess

Gun dog, stun dog, no use any more

Let loose, no roost, fending door to door.

Old dog, cold dog, shivering in the rain

Picked up, slicked up, look for love again

Pets rehome, dog and bone, pages on the net

‘Dog old’ ‘Missold’ ‘No time for a pet’

Loving eyes, desperate guys, curly, short haired, bald

They’ve got a name, and the shame, of never being called.

Sad dog, glad dog, second chance once more

Small steps, old pets, waiting at the door.

Old dog, cold dog, shivering again

Sob in throat, stroke matted coat, jab to kill the pain

Sunrise, open eyes, sunlight on the wall

Dog hair, nowhere,

…no shadow waiting in the hall.

 

©Ruth Morrison 2013

 

Walkies

It is true to say that the dog walkers that I meet on a daily basis come in all shapes and sizes – some, as we have discussed in previous postings, resemble their hounds, others complement them.  So a wiry lurcher may encourage on his rotund lady owner, as she struggles up the hills in joggers and trainers on a new fitness regime, or a huge Italian Spinoni bounds alongside his human friend, who is small enough to use him as a pony.  But they all of course, have one thing in common, and that is to give their furry companions a run outside, where those legs, big or small, rejoice in the sheer luxury of uncontained exercise- skidding or skittering around trees and dips in the roads, racing up and down hills, jumping with joy into the muddiest puddles.

There is a benefit of course to the owner too – and that is the constant need to get outside and walk, whatever the weather, or the inclination. And it does us good.

G and I regularly attend social functions at weekends, mainly of the dinner party variety (we seem to have segued into that age rather seamlessly) and after days of running around with 3 busy boys and their lives, we enjoy the benefits of those functions immensely – the good food, intelligent (most of the time) conversation, and of course in the main, fine wines.  It was on one such occasion that a friend of mine L, asked if I would step in and fill the shoes of a friend of hers on the London Moonwalk.  For those of you unfamiliar with the event, it is a 26.2 mile walk around the streets of London from midnight in aid of Breast Cancer.  Feeling rather buoyed up with red wine, I rather rashly promised to do so,saying ‘It’s only a walk’, and then promptly forgot all about it.

Unfortunately, L hadn’t, and with only 10 days of ‘training’ – where Muttley thought all of his Christmases had come at once as I walked his little legs off, reaching a maximum of about 8 miles on my peak day – I found myself standing at the start line with 15,000 other women, and a few men, a quarter of an hour before midnight.  Somehow we had  managed to cobble together an outfit each (bras feature heavily, to highlight the issue of breast cancer), wore our bright pink Moonwalk hats with pride, and our very dear and generous friends had donated over 5 times the target we had originally set – probably because they couldn’t quite believe that I was actually going ahead with this.

The great British weather did us proud that night and threw at us downpours of rain, bitter freezing wind chills and icy temperatures.  And yet for the first half of the walk it didn’t really bother us – L and I both walk our dogs in these conditions – as the snake of bright pink hats wended chattering through the silent streets of London. By sunrise, I was struggling - but as Big Ben was illuminated by heavenly rays, my determination kicked in.  We had talked and walked solidly for 6 hours, but the final miles were trodden in a grim and painful silence.

Buffeted by winds on the Albert Embankment, and crossing Vauxhall Bridge we were greeted by an amazing sight – hundreds of families with children jumping up and down in excitement, little dogs straining at the leashes, all looking for their beloved walkers.  Women and men walked arm in arm, staggering and stumbling towards the finish line, some crying, some stoical, some reflective.

In the crowds stood two little boys holding two banners – one read WELL DONE GRANDAD, the other simply said GRANDMA WOULD HAVE BEEN PROUD OF YOU…

Life is simply too short to keep putting off those things that you’ve always wanted to do, even if, like me, you didn’t know you did until you do them.  Do something different today, no matter how big or small – and take a little step forward on your own journey…