Wednesday, January 13, 2010

Holly, Dreaming


Holly, Dreaming

Holly was my dog for almost 17 years. My dog.
My first dog, Amy, was in honesty my Mom's dog... although she spent endless hours with me, if given a choice, it was my Mom she curled up with. And Toby, my second dog, who spent his 13 years adventuring with me, was first and foremost my Dad's dog. From the moment he saw my Dad, he essentially turned to me and said, "I'm with him." He rode in Dad's plane, Dad's boat, Dad's car -- leaning close against Dad's shoulder and wearing his baseball cap, inspiring local gossips to ask who was the blonde driving about with Paul. While Toby always came to sleep next to my bed, he rose very early, climbed the stairs and sprawled across Dad's bedroom doorway, to be sure Dad didn't leave without him in the morning.
But Holly, from the day we met and she crawled into my lap and fell asleep, was forever my dog. The dog of my heart. She left me last July, and her eulogy is posted on the Bondi Resort Blog.



Holly, Dreaming


Dogs dreams of chases

Who can believe

Such intensity, such focus

Scrambling paws, small barks

Dogs dream in rich landscapes


Dogs dream of chase

Hunts

The delirious joy of running

Dogs dream of cats

Ascending trees.

Of rabbits, wind-fast


Dreams thick with remembered scent

The moist soil scrabbling away from paws

The glory of speed


Cats sleep near fires

Squared off, silent but for purring

Motionless as sphinx

And as secret


But dogs with aging eyes, old joints

Sleep with more intensity

Running down the air


I like to think I am in those dreams

A bond so ancient,

First dog at first fire,

Dreaming of first hunt, with first person


Cat will not say, ever.

But dog makes small noises

Calling me into her dream,

‘Come quick, come see!’

Tail thumping on the rug,

Remembering joy,

Times shared,

Me.


Dog dreams with such happiness

I like to think I am in those dreams



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