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Posts tagged ‘dog’

Haiku and Loku Days-Returning to Sleep on a Cold Morning

© Jo Hewitt THE TEAL MANGO, 2014

My dog cannot sleep through the night. (Therefore I do not get to sleep through the night.) She has needs. She needs to bark at the rabble rousers on the street. She needs to bark at the totally silent and invisible via amazing stealth skills cat that she knows is out there. She needs to do those out door tasks that dogs need to do, or so she claims, any where from 3-5 in the morning. Maybe she does, maybe she doesn’t. But I know that if I don’t get up, she will have to do it and it will be in the house. So I get up, and even though my yard is fenced, I grab some outer wear, put her on her leash and go out with her. If I don’t, she will be out there way too long, tangling with the occasional stray opossum or raccoon, barking at invisible cats or making a ruckus of some form or another that no one appreciates at any time, but especially so early in the morning.

If she wakes me early enough and she does her business in a cursory manner, I have enough time to get a little more sleep before I need to get up for work. I always hope that I had remembered to pull the sheets up to hold on to some of the warmth of sleep so I don’t have to climb into a once again cold bed.

Returning to Sleep on a Cold Morning

 
Last vestige of heat
Calls her back in warmth of sheets, 
Back into sleep.
 
Bedtime story by Jeanie Tomanek

Bedtime Story by Jeanie Tomanek

 

Haiku and Loku Days-Maggie Dog-Going Home

257842_2105788999730_1920306_o© Jo Hewitt THE TEAL MANGO, 2014

Today I cried with my daughter and Maggie, her dog. Maggie,  Magoogles. Fragoogle, GeeGee, Smells, Maggie Moo, Snorty Moo, a dog of so many nick names, a dog with so much personality. Maggie lay stretched out on the floor, her poor body full of tumors and in so much pain. The two of them would be leaving, in a short time, journeying south.

I remember when my daughter called me at my place of employment, told me she was coming to the city to go to the Humane Society to get a dog and asked me if I wanted to meet her there. We went from kennel to kennel, she decided on “Princess”, as she was named, a brindled 6 month old pit boxer mix huddled in the back corner, anxious and a little afraid. An interview, an adoption fee, a collar and a leash, and a borrowed crate, a name change to Maggie, the two of them were headed south, back to the university.

Maggie, was small for her breed, but a mighty dog. She had so much energy and exuberance! She could drag you to to ground while you held on to her leash for dear life. She could jump and repel herself from wall to wall as high as a grown man’s head. She could jump,  straight up and down, Pepe LePew  style. No counter top was safe.  She batted a soccer ball around with the soccer team one day. She would hang out on the roof, accessed from an upstairs window and bark at people and squirrels. She hung out at parties and made it her job to clean up what ever dropped to or spilled onto the floor.

She had her moments, her quirks, her anxiety issues. She would claw through drywall, plaster and lathe, concrete if she had to. There were frequent battles of the wills. She was a dog with a cat personality. (We had commented how at times the name Princess had actually suited her.)  She could balance any size piece of food or treat for minutes on end at the very tip of her nose, pointed straight up, and then toss it up into the air with a flick of her head and catch every time. She loved to sun herself in full sunlight in the middle of a hot July day and then come in panting- so hot, or curl up so close to the fire place, her fur becoming so hot it was a wonder she didn’t spontaneously combust. She loved to sleep under the blankets in winter, going around in circles until she had the nest just right and then snuggling in close for sleep. She bounded like an antelope over drifts of snow and would throw herself to roll on cool green grass, refusing to budge when she was tired of a walk.  But utmost, she was my daughter’s loyal protector and friend.

She loved car rides-her front legs balancing her at the window, her head out, looking ahead, her ears flapping wildly in the wind. Today she took her last car ride.

We love you Maggie, and we all will miss you.

 

 

Going Home

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Our first day as two,
We drove home. Our last day, we
Drove, you going home.

Maggie
March 15, 2001- May 7, 2014

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