Wednesday, March 25, 2015

In Memoriam: To All the Good Dogs Who Have Gone On...


There is no direct, immediate stimulus for this post other than I find occasion to share it with other, bereft canine companions. I cannot read it aloud without my voice cracking,  and tears welling up in my eyes, though I've read it dozens of times. I find it consoling that my own sentiments are so accurately reflected.


The House Dog’s Grave (Robinson Jeffers)
(Haig, an English bulldog)

I’ve changed my ways a little; I cannot now
Run with you in the evenings along the shore,
Except in a kind of dream; and you, if you dream a moment,
You see me there.

So leave awhile the paw-marks on the front door
Where I used to scratch to go out or in,
And you’d soon open; leave on the kitchen floor
The marks of my drinking-pan.

I cannot lie by your fire as I used to do
On the warm stone,
Nor at the foot of your bed; no, all the nights through
I lie alone.

But your kind thought has laid me less than six feet
Outside your window where firelight so often plays,
And where you sit to read- and I fear often grieving for me-
Every night your lamplight lies on my place.

You, man and woman, live so long, it is hard
To think of you ever dying.
A little dog would get tired, living so long.
I hope that when you are lying

 Under the ground like me your lives will appear
As good and joyful as mine.
No, dears, that’s too much hope: you are not so well cared for
As I have been.

And never have known the passionate undivided
Fidelities that I knew.
Your minds are perhaps too active, too many-sided….
But to me you were true.

You were never masters, but friends. I was your friend.
I loved you well, and was loved. Deep love endures
To the end and far past the end. If this is my end,
I am not lonely. I am not afraid. I am still yours.

6 comments:

  1. Too beautiful and sad and lovely. Thanks Woody.
    Mel Parsons

    ReplyDelete
  2. Here's Neruda:
    "...but, with those eyes so much purer than mine,
    he’d keep on gazing at me
    with a look that reserved for me alone
    all his sweet and shaggy life,
    always near me, never troubling me,
    and asking nothing.”
    ― Pablo Neruda

    ReplyDelete
  3. This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

    ReplyDelete
  4. In tears...of course. Thinking of all the dogs we've ever had...

    ReplyDelete