Mary Lee posted this picture, along with a playful cumulative poem at Year of Reading this morning. Mary Lee was especially intrigued by the small brown pug in the bottom right corner of the picture. I immediately thought of Maggie, a crazy yellow lab that adopted me many years. Maggie loved, loved, loved Washington Park, and regularly escaped from her leash to cavort happily through the park- interrupting soccer games, attending birthday parties, and participating in art classes.
“Maggie”
You come to
me
During a
cold November rain
I do not
recognize you
But you kiss
my face frantically,
Insist that
we have
known each
other
For a very
long time.
Leave muddy
pawprints
Down the
front of my purple raincoat
I am sure
Someone must
be searching
for such a fine
young yellow lab
clearly
purebred.
But no one
claims you.
And so you,
Sixty pounds
of
frantic
tail wagging
joy
claim us.
You love
many things-
Naps on the living
room couch
Doggie bags
snatched from
my hand
before they ever
make it to the fridge.
Car rides,
not next to
Ramsey
in the back
of the SUV
but rather
perched on the edge
of the front
seat
where you pant
and drool
happily
on the
dashboard.
you love
Washington Park
dog heaven
on earth-
endless
squirrels
geese to
chase
a myriad of four-legged friends.
You are the
Houdini of dogs
Regularly
freeing yourself
From the
confines of the leash
to race
through soccer games
and gobble hot dogs at birthday parties
and company picnics.
and gobble hot dogs at birthday parties
and company picnics.
You name yourself
an honorary member
of taekwondo and folk dancing classes.
an honorary member
of taekwondo and folk dancing classes.
The ladies
in the Thursday afternoon art class
are
especially unappreciative
of your
talent
issuing a
lifetime ban
After you
knock over an easel.
Your
favorite place, though,
Is the slimy,
duck-poopy,
algae-ridden
lake
And you
paddle gleefully
Back and
forth
For hours on
end
As Ramsey
and I glumly wonder
Whether you
will ever come out.
Your
carefree existence ends
The rainy
May evening
when the
boys move in.
Now you have
a job.
You are
therapy girl.
All summer
My two
broken boys
Rage and
scream and rail
against a
life
that has
been far from kind
And you lean
against them,
Gently
licking
the hurt
away.
© Carol
Wilcox, 2013
Good dog, Maggie. Good dog.
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