Kun sinä kuolit,
keräsin pois hihnan ja pannan,
pedit ja peitot ja harjat,
tyhjät kupit,
joita et enää koskaan kolistaisi.
En tehnyt sitä siksi,
että haluaisin unohtaa.
En vain halua muistaa
jokaisen päivän jokainen hetki.
Muistan sinut joka aamu,
kun kylmä kuono ei tönikään minua hereille.
Muistan sinut kun avaan verhot katsoakseni,
millaiset vaatteet laitan ylleni aamulenkille.
Kun laitan voileipää, käteni haroo tyhjää paikkaa
missä kuppisi olivat ja muistan,
ettet enää ole jakamassa aamiaista kanssani.
Eteisessä ei enää olekaan tungosta,
hihnasi ei roiku oven vieressä,
ja minä teen kävelyni yksin.
Hetki hetkeltä minä muistan sinut.
Kaikkein eniten ikävöin sinua iltaisin,
kun en kuule tuttua kahinaa
etsiessäsi hyvää asentoa pediltäsi.
En enää kuule syvää, tyytyväistä huokausta
kun asetut aloillesi pitkän päivän jälkeen.
Et ole vartioimassa untani.
Käteni ei enää kosketa korviesi silkkiä.
Kyllä minä muistan sinut.
(Päivi Reijonen, 2007)
When you died,
I put away your collar and leash,
your bed and blanket and brush,
your empty bowls,
that you would never again rattle.
I did not do that
because I wanted to forget.
I just didn't want to remember
every moment of every day.
I remember you every morning,
when your cold nose is not there to nudge me awake.
I remember you when I open the curtains
to check what clothes to wear in the morning walk.
When I make a sandwich, my hand reaches the emtpy place
where your bowls used to be and I remember,
that you are not there to share breakfast with me.
The hall is no longer crowded,
your leash is not hanging by the door,
and I go for a walk alone.
Moment by moment I remember you.
I miss you most of all at night,
when I can't hear you
looking for the perfect spot on your bed.
I can't hear your long, satisfied sigh
when you lie down
after a long day is behind us.
You no longer guard my sleep.
My hand can't touch your silky ears.
I do remember you.
(Päivi Reijonen, 2007)
*******************************************
When the Man waked up he said: "What is Wild Dog doing here?"
And the woman said: "His name is not Wild Dog any more, but the First Friend, because he will be our friend for always and always and always."
(Rudyard Kipling)
********************************************
Full circle
When John was ten they gave the boy
(a farmer's son) no passing toy,
But his own sheep-dog, eight weeks old.
They'd play round barn and rick and fold
Till running, John would turn to find
His puppy sitting far behind.
With puzzled look and whimpers he
Would plead: "O master, wait for me!"
The years sped on. Through wind and weather
The boy and dog grew up together.
On hill and dale, through heath and fern,
Nor did John need to slow down and turn.
When rounding sheep the dog roamed wide,
Outstripping far his master's stride;
He'd work the flocks, his joy - his pride -
With whistles only as a guide.
And twelve years on the dog was still
A close companion on the hill,
But in the truck he'd often stay
And guard the gear. Now growing grey
In cheek and muzzle, when again
They strolled together down the lane,
He'd pant and pause, and sightless he
Would plead: "O master, wait for me!"
(Ruth Skilling)
******************************************
The Dog
The truth I do not stretch or shove
When I state the dog is full of love.
I've also proved by actual test
A wet dog is the lovingest.
(Ogden Nash)
*******************************************
Fidelity of the Dog
With eye uprised, his master's looks to scan,
The joy, the solace, and the aid of man;
The rich man's guardian, and the poor man's friend,
The only creature faithful to the end.
(George Crabbe)
*******************************************
The Dog Lovers
So they bought you
And kept you in a
Very good home
Central heating
TV
A deep freeze
A very good home -
No one to take you
For that lovely long run -
But otherwise
"A very good home"
They fed you Pal and Chum
But not that lovely long run,
Until, mad with energy and boredom,
You escaped - and ran and ran and ran and ran
under a car.
Today they will cry for you -
Tomorrow they will buy another dog.
(Spike Milligan)
**********************************************
It's lonely here in prison,
I dream of sun, of fields,
I saw them from a window once,
but I don't know how they feel.
I've never known a caress,
a friend, a bone, a toy,
I'd happily companion,
a human girl or boy.
But some men have decided,
with selfishness and greed,
that my fate shall be a cage,
and for my keep, I'll breed.
What should fuel this folly?
My kind may bark in vain.
We care not for your commerce,
and few know of our pain.
We're hidden well from justice,
for our freedom same may cry.
God grant me, please, just one request -
Let me play once before I die.
(Jim Willis)
**********************************
Waiting up for Master
Asleep? Not they - for, as you close the door,
Hark to a patter on the parquet floor,
And little squeals of unalloyed delight;
"At last you're back; you're very late to-night.
We thought you'd never come." The greetings cease,
Whilst eager glances scan the mantelpiece.
Ecstatic silence! as you turn to take
Down from it's resting place, then slowly break
The ritual biscuit into equal shares -
Jock's on the mat, and Peter's by the stairs,
The last crumb finished, with reclutant tread
Each seeks the comfort of his cosy bed
(Viewing the other with suspicious frown,
To make quite certain that he's settling down).
"Now, not a sound! Good-night!" Four amber eyes
Strive to convey their sad - nay, painted surprise.
Out goes the light; upstairs you softly creep.
... Two little sighs... Two happy dogs asleep.
(Joe Walker)
******************************************
A Dog's Tombstone
This tombstone, stranger passing near,
Shows that a little dog lies here:
Tells how a master's loving hand
Carved these words and heaped this sand.
Smile if you please, but when you die
Shall you be mourned as much as I?
(Anonymous, translated from the Greek by The Right Honourable Lord Hailsham)
The one absolutely unselfish friend that a man can have in this selfish world, the one that never deserts him... his is dog. A man's dog stands by him in prosperity and poverty, in health and sickness. He will sleep on the cold ground, when the wintry winds blow and the snow drives fiercely, if only he can be near his master's side. He will kiss the hand that has no food. He guards the sleep of a pauper as if he were a prince.
If fortune drives the master forth, an outcast in the world, the faithful dog asks no higher privilege than that of accompanying him to guard against danger, to fight against his enemies, and when the last scene of all comes, and death takes the master in its embrace, there by his graveside will the noble dog be found, his head between his paws, his eyes sad but open in alert watchfulness, faithful and true.
(George Graham Vest)