Sunday, March 8, 2009


(Giacomino - Very Old Dog - on the porch, yesterday at noon.)

in Just-
spring when the yard is brown-
green-scented the fragile Very Old Dog

piddles far and wee

and LindyandWilliam come
running from tugs and
dinosaur rahrs and it's

when the yard is wormsquish-wonderful
the dear old
Very Old Dog snuffles

far and wee

and CharlieandMama come alloverwagging
from perfect sunny spots and


Very Old Dog gambols

(humble apologies to e. e. cummings)

(Sammy and Very Old Dog - just 4 weeks from their 7th and 15th birthdays, in the yard yesterday)

I write of personal feelings.

Today we saw straightline winds driving rain perfectly perpendicular and heard loose things crashing and our windows rattled. The emergency alert (this is not a test) interrupted Prairie Home Companion; the nerve. And then we walked the dogs, not a half hour later, in clear blue skies, so warm that in short sleeves we glowed.

The malignant Bermuda grass is still brown, but the fescue, what's left of it, is Kelly green. Grass green. Daffodils opened up for the sun, and the not-really-tulips on the tulip trees. The new little birthday lilac bush sports a riot of brazen buds. It survived.


From the ice storm, the wounded grand trees in their prime will die. Like a best friend whose very name has always made me smile. Who has malignant tumors in her brain, but still possesses her special grace, and dignity, courage and humor; I hear the oxygen whoosh on the phone. I have your smiling name in my heart when I go to sleep. When I wake.


A tiny soul has arrived. In the usual way, thank you paul simon, but not. I didn't know he was en route until he was nearly here and now he is and I want to hold him and smell of him and fill his eyes with my face so he will know that I will love him like a gramma. And cry over him and fuss and fill my heart with his. His name is Brody.


And Bill is away, so I float just out of reach, a deflating balloon's silly careening. Untethered. He'll come home to my telling him how much I love him. But the dogs and I did just fine.

Delia keeps a constant eye out for her Bill. One ear tuned to the street for the right car door to slam.

But she's an unconscionable liar who tells me she always was my dog.

Until she hears that car door slam.

most all of the time I write for you, dear readers. tonight I wrote for me, but you can still

hug your hounds


  1. Thank you always take us to a better world
    love and smoochie kisses from
    Asta and Mommi

  2. Thank you for your words of warmth, of green, of dear hounds, of oh so descriptive pictures, of heart tears and heart smiles.

    Why is it when you write for you, somehow you write for us as well?

    Warm hugs to hounds and humans all,


  3. Love your post! Your daffodils made us smile and so did Brody! What a cutie he is!

    Love ya lots,
    Maggie and Mitch

  4. This time last week I was sitting in my kitchen, looking at the 6 inches of snow on my back porch. Yesterday afternoon it hit 83 and is supposed to be in the mid-70s today.

    Agnes get more and more frail each day - we walked two miles yesterday and we were thinking she may have to be carried home, but she did okay. She's still silly, just frail and silly.

  5. Thank you..we loved it. And we hope the dogs get to meet Brody soon!


  6. We loved it...warm hugs to you and the waggle.

    Lisa & the boys

  7. Your post filled me with warmth and sunshine and good, good feelings. Thank you.

  8. Bless, said simply, meant wholeheartedly...BLESS

  9. (Not surprisingly) well written! It's cold and snowy here, but we're starting to look forwards to spring!


  10. It made us fill with happiness and sadness all at once....Love and ksises A+A+PL2

  11. Beautifully written and very moving. Personal but we all share in the feeling.

    How about I hug my spaniel since I don't have a hound?

  12. Thank you for the good feelings, even if it was just for you, we enjoyed it a lot.

  13. Reading this was just like seeing things through your eyes. Life is good (especially when you have canine companions).

  14. It is very old dog I want to put my arms around and gently love. How special he is and how fragile.

  15. Little do you know that you write for us also.

  16. i love this thoughtful and melodious writing. you must write for yourself more often. because you also write for us when you do it. hugs.

  17. You always make me feel better. I am also happy that I can comment here again. For awhile I thought I was blocked. How vain, always thinking it's about me!

  18. Weren't we talking about how you have to suffer to become great at something artistic? Your blog is Amazing (do you like my Patience-esque use of the capital letter?). Each post just flows one into the other - it is hard to tell where one stops and the other starts. I could read on and on, but must get down to work. Please give a kiss to Sam I Am!

    Much Love, Amy


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