Read an Excerpt
SKIJORING WITH KANE
The world is a large bay of wonder
and here we are, circling the snow covered golf course under
the ribbon wisps of moonlight-you, mutt with glacial
blue eyes and oil black fur, and me, a girl on skis
skating behind you, seeing your feet kick
through shadows of spruce
and elm. I let go
so that fear waddles on the outskirts
of the golf course parking lot. I let go
because the harnesses connecting our bodies
are taut and stretched and we race
the night, we speed faster than the lone car
passing the adjacent boulevard. Kane, dog of my heart,
if you reach heaven before I do
don't wait for me-run to the distant cloud edges,
let your feet rumble and shake free
a snow storm spiraling toward earth, toward
the winter girl watching from her window, remembering
ice, remembering the soft swift pads
of one dog's feet.
Stephanie N. Johnson
RETRIEVER
"Imagination is the great retriever . . . ."
-Charles Wright
If "Heaven is a lovely lake of beer," as St. Bridget wrote,
then dog heaven must be this tub of kibble, where you can push
your muzzle all day long without getting bloat or bellyache.
Where every toilet seat is raised, at the right level
for slurping, and fire hydrants and saplings tell you, "Here.
Relieve yourself on us." And the sun and moon
fall at your feet, celestial Frisbees flinging themselves
in shining arcs for your soft mouth to retrieve. Rumi says
"Personality is a small dog trying to get the soul to play,"
but you are a big dog, with an even larger heart, and you
have redeemed our better selves. Forgive us forthe times
we walked away, wanted to do taxes or wash dishes
instead of playing fetch or tugger. In the green field
of heaven, there are no collars, no leashes, no delivery trucks
with bad brakes, and all the dogs run free. Barking is allowed,
and every pocket holds a treat. Sit. Stay. Good dog.
Barbara Crooker
OLD FRIENDS
Their youthful years have slipped away,
The old man and his dog.
They have a special bonding
That needs no dialogue.
The chase is just a memory,
But how they used to run
When hearts and legs were stronger
And games were such great fun.
Now the pace is slower
For the master and his mate.
If one lags too far behind
The other stops to wait.
Some things we cannot change
Like aging and the weather,
But true friends are quite content
Just growing old together.
C. David Hay
PRAYER FOR MY BEST FRIEND
Bless his nose, so wet and cold
Bless his fur, so soft to hold.
Bless his tail, it wags so strong
When I tell him he may come along.
Bless those ears that stand so stout
Except when one's turned inside out.
Bless those eyes so filled with love
That surely comes from God above.
For up in Heaven the Angels sing,
They fly with harps on silver wings.
But here on Earth there can be no doubt,
The Angels bark as they run about.
Brennan Boyle,
age 12
