|Zuni (Zoo-Knee, a Native American tribe) and Zeb (after Zebulon Pike, who discovered Pikes Peak) are CaPR's newest puppies. In these pictures, they are about ten weeks. Now they are five months.|
April is National Poetry Month. This year, I've chosen "Dog Days" as my theme. Every day, for these thirty days, I will write a poem about dogs. Today's poem came after I spent the morning at CaPR (Canine Assistance Partners of the Rockies). First, I attended the puppy class, four sweet babies, ages 5-9 months. Zeb and Zuni (pictured above) are the youngest. It's been amazing to see how quickly they grow, they've gone from being cute, cute babies to being "naughty middle schoolers" almost over night. Next, I attended the class for older dogs. At that class, there were six dogs- Xandy and Nia (15 months), Thatcher, Uly and Valor, who are about two, and Quimby- who is pushing four. It's comical to see the differences in behavior between the younger dogs and the older dogs. The younger dogs want to do a good job and they try hard, but the world is an interesting place, and sometimes, it's really hard to focus. Not sure why, but visions of my sixth graders dancing through my head. Tonight I wrote a haiku and a tanka. I wish I had better titles…
"In WhichPuppies Grow"
sweet canine yardsticks
measuring time's fleet passage
how quickly babies grow…
"Canine Middle Schoolers"
overnight, sweet puppies
become mouthy adolescents
four-legged middle schoolers
"Reflections of a Service Dog Puppy after a Hard Day at Class"
Mom, when we walked in the door,
you reminded me I need to be quiet
and I want to do that, I really do
but when I get here,
there's so much I need to tell you
and other things I need to tell my friends
and sometimes a bark or two just pops out…
Mom, you said heel
and I got this, I really do
but there's that yellow guy over there
his tail is wagging
and he smells so interesting
and he wants to be my friend
and sometimes I just have to be a little friendly…
Mom, you said leave it
and I understand, I really do
but there's this yellow ball in my path
and it squeaks when I pick it up
and I'm pretty sure you want to play with me....
Mom, this service dog stuff
is hard work
Can't I just be a regular puppy?
(c) Carol Wilcox, 2019
Love the pics, the poems, and the voice of the service dog puppy. What a lovely collection of poetic ponderings from your day with the dogs. I love how those canine middle schoolers remind you of your 6th graders.
I love"visions of my sixth graders dancing through my head" and then your mention of those middle schoolers. Ramona is right, the service dog puppy's voice is perfect!
Your service dog poem makes me laugh out loud. We were dog sitting my daughter's dog last week. She's about three. She is a mix of lab and bulldog she rescued from the shelter: a bundle of energy for sure. When I would take her out, she'd crack me up. She might have some attention issues to work through. Every smell, every sound, every movement made her want to go in a different direction. Your poem, written from the perspective of the dog, surely makes me think of all that might have been going through her mind.
Your mention of having a hard time with a title, is a struggle I completely understand. I'm having the same challenge with some of my poems. I'm inclined often to take the best word phrase that gets at the meaning, but often that gives away the poem a bit more than I would like. I'm also wrestling over endings. I haven't written as much poetry in the last year so I'm finding it all a bit of a challenge. I also am loving every minute of getting back to that place where poetry flows a bit. Glad to have the stops by your blog to inspire me.
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