Thursday, April 25, 2019

Poem #24- Dog days

Another late writing night. Tried a couple of different forms, unsuccessfully, and finally settled on two quick snapshots.

Snapshots from a dog watcher....

six am
golden retriever 
sits placidly
exact center
of sidewalk square
while twenty-something owner
clad in blue flannel bathrobe
does a potty dance

six pm
two men chat across picket fence
while black lab pup
sporting new red collar
wriggles in owner's arms
anxious to share puppy kisses
with his new neighbor

(C) Carol Wilcox, 2019

Wednesday, April 24, 2019

Poem #23- Dog Days- Jack Black

Jack Black, with his ever present gallon jug
April is National Poetry Month. The theme I've chosen this year is "Dog Days."Almost every day, for the entire month, I am trying to write a poem about dogs. I'm kind of getting to that time of the month when it's hard going. I'm not sure whether I'm really writing poems or telling stories. I am having a terrible time with endings. Anyway, for tonight, this is all I've got.

"Jack Black"

before we went into the animal shelter
I sternly told my son
that we were not bringing home a dog
and most definitely not a puppy.
I am not sure then,
how we ended up with you
an eight-week-old
black and brown
lab rottweiler mix

you adored me
from that first day
you followed me joyfully
from room to room to room
you cried if I shut the bathroom door
each morning I woke
with you pressed against my back
not a centimeter separated us

you adored Star
followed that Houdini on many a trek
out the back gate, down the alley,
around the block to the middle school
there was that one rainy day
when I got a phone call
that someone had found you.
I retrieved the two of you
out of the back
of a gleaming black BMW
the very kind owner assured me
that a good cleaning
would get rid of all of the mud
the two of you had tracked into her car

you adored toys
especially balls and stuffies,
you knew exactly how to
find the squeakers
and tear them out
you could destroy a fifteen dollar dog toy
in about ten minutes, it's lucky then
that you were just as happy
old gallon milk jugs
and those were a little more indestructible
I'd throw them and you'd bring them back
again and again and again
"Please mom, just one more time."

you adored socks and dish towels and underwear
and ate them with unabandoned relish
only to wake hours later
groaning in pain
the first surgery, the one
to remove a .99 Walmart washrag from your belly
cost me $5000
I couldn't come up with $8000
for another surgery six months later

Jack, sweet Jack,
no one would accuse you
of being the world's smartest dog
but you sure knew how to love

(C) Carol Wilcox, 2019

Tuesday, April 23, 2019

Poem #22- Hot Dogging It

April is National Poetry Month. My theme this month is "Dog Days." I'm trying to write approximately thirty poems about dogs, or in the case of this poem, loosely related to dogs. I love baseball almost as much as I love dogs. Tonight, I went to my first Rockies game of the season. While the outcome wasn't great (the Rockies lost 6-3), it's always fun to be at Coors Field, on a beautiful spring night. It's not so fun, though, to get home at 11:00 and realize you have not written your poem for the day! Whoops! A quick almost tanka will have to do!

"Hot Dogging It"

Unwrapped at ball game,
Charred black over campfire,
Barbeque skewered,
Mustard, onion, pickle relish,
Could anything taste better?

(C) Carol Wilcox, 2019

Monday, April 22, 2019

Poem 21/31- A Dog that Bites

April is National Poetry Month. I've selected "Dog Days" as my theme, and am attempting to write thirty dog-related poems. Tonight's poem is a story poem about Boo. Boo was a puppy mill mama, churning out litter after litter of puppies. She was finally rescued, and my mom adopted her from the Mill Dog Rescue. My mom had her for a year or so, maybe even closer to two, when she had surgery and was no longer able to care for a dog. I volunteered to bring Boo home with me. I only had her for about two years, and then she had a liver problem, and had to be put to sleep.

"A Dog that Bites"

puppy mill mama
you bit my finger
the day i brought you home
we were in the backyard
it was dark
you were the tiniest dog
I had ever owned
I was afraid I would  lose you
so I tried to pick you up
and you drew blood

later i understood your rules
you didn't tolerate being picked up
unless i asked permission first
you liked to observe the world
from your pink princess bed
in the corner of the living room
you wanted your food
brought to the princess bed
you would eat it from a bowl
but you preferred if i just dumped it
right into the corner of the bed
it had to be soft and mushy
because you didn't have many teeth left
you would sit on the couch with me
while i did schoolwork
but you did not want to sit too close
nor did you want to cuddle or be petted

your needs were simple, Boo
you just wanted a safe, quiet place
with people who understood your prickly little heart
and knew that you didn't bite
unless you felt afraid

(C) Carol Wilcox, 2019

Sunday, April 21, 2019

20/31- Dog Days

Happy National Poetry Month! This month I'm writing a series of 30 poems about dogs. Today is a story poem about my dog Star. Star is an eager eater, to put it mildly. Since she was a puppy, she's been notorious for digging food out of the trash, snatching food off of the counter, and even finding food when we are out walking. As she has aged, her caloric intake has impacted her weight just a little. My vet reminds me every time we go that carrying extra weight is not good for her. I know that, and I try really hard, but...

"Maintaining Her Girlish Figure"

Dr. Margo examines Star's chart.
"She's gained a little weight," she says.
"What are you feeding her?
Senior Weight Loss," I respond.

I wonder if I should mention
the empty tuna can she managed to snag off the counter
or the moldy hamburger buns she dragged out of the trash earlier today
and then there's the oreo she snatched out of my hand this morning
and my son's hamburger helper pan which made quite the crash
as she pulled it off the stove last night.
Two nights ago when we were out walking
she found a discarded ham and cheese sandwich
on the south side of the middle school
and she chased that with a half slice of pizza
she discovered on the north side.
Then last night, there was
that half-eaten Chinese takeout box
a treasure she discovered at construction site
and the bread crusts at the Italian restaurant around the corner.

How much do you feed her? the vet asks.
"One cup, twice a day." I answer firmly.
"I use a measuring cup."

(C) Carol Wilcox, 2019

Saturday, April 20, 2019

Poem #19/30- A Dog-Eat-Dog World

I found these cute babies here when I googled Dog-Eat-Dog World.
I love Golden Retrievers and couldn't resist!
I'm feeling a little bummed today, because I missed posting yesterday. I didn't do it intentionally- I posted the link for my Thursday night poem as my link on Poetry Friday. It was a really long week and  when I got home last night, I was really tired. Somehow, I got confused and thought I had already written my Friday poem, when really all I had done was post the link to my Thursday poem on Friday.  This morning, when I was more clearheaded, I realized my mistake. Maybe I will end the month with 29 poems, or maybe I will write two poems one day, or maybe I will go until May 1st. Not sure yet....

"A Dog-Eat-Dog World"

It's a dog-eat-dog world.

If you want to be the alpha dog
you will have to demonstrate dogged determination,
work like a dog, and even if
you are dog tired or sick as a dog
you will still have to dog paddle 
and keep your head above water.
Expect to put on an occasional dog and pony show. 

There will be times 
when you will feel like the tail is wagging the dog
or everything is going to the dogs
avoid barking up the wrong tree
Understand that everyone spends some time in the dog house.

In spite of your best intentions,
expect to encounter a lot of dogfights.
Do not act like a hot dog
or rub people's fur the wrong way
understand that many people's bark is worse than their bite
sometimes it's best to let sleeping dogs lie
but you can teach an old dog new tricks
if you throw them enough bones
if you do have to fight, know when to call off your dogs
occasionally you might even have to turn tail
and slink away with your tail between your legs.

Remember, it's a dog-eat-dog world. 

(C) Carol Wilcox, 2019

Thursday, April 18, 2019

Poem 18/30- Dog Days

Baxter, a chiweenie looking for a home

April is National Poetry Month. I have chosen "Dog Days" as my theme, and every day this month, I will be attempting to write a poem having to do with dogs. Today's poem is totally ridiculous. Tonight, on the neighborhood website, someone shared a picture of Baxter, a "chiweenie" (chihuahua/dachshund) that she is currently fostering. That got me thinking about other "designer dogs." I knew about golden doodles, and my search led me to two other websites, with all kinds of cross-breeds. A lot of them are really fun to say, and I just kind of started messing around with them. The poem has absolutely no deeper meaning, it was just kind of fun to play around with...

"Designer Dogs"

golden doodle, labradoodle
double doodle, chusky

chiweenie, malador
cheagle, alusky 

yorktese, yorkipoo
yoranian, chug

puggle, pittplot
papshund, frug

beabull, labrabull
sharpassett, dorgi

schnoodle, cockapoo
cavador, morkie

Designer dogs are not for me
 Heinz 57 fits perfectly!

(C) Carol Wilcox, 2019

And in case you didn't get enough, here are some more I considered using...
beaglier, labradinger, pomski, germanpei, bassettpei, corgipoo, labradinger, papateese,aussie doodle, golden dachs, gerberian shepsky, goberian, weimardoodle, jack-a-poo, basschund, cavador, bo-jack, jackshund, cavachon pomchi