A dark stormy night, howling winds, lashing rain.
Wet, bedraggled she stood beside the road. Lost, scared.
I stopped the car and walked towards her, saw the fear in her eyes.
I wrapped her in my coat and gently carried her to the car.
Arriving home a warm towel to rub her dry, gave her some food
She was still shivering when I wrapped her in a blanket and held her in my arms.
When I woke next morning she was laying soft and warm beside me, her head resting on my chest.
At that moment I realised, she was mine.


All my life I'd waited for this moment.
Finally I had a dog of my own.....

Where ever I go she goes
All those fantastic days and nights in the wild
Cold nights when she sneaks into my sleeping bag
And curls up against the back of my knees
But my Mollie is now eight years old
A good age for a Patterdale Terrier
They dont live that long
They spend their lives at ninety miles an hour
And never know when to give up
About four years ago she chewed up a six stone Boxer dog
He just wanted to play
But she didn't, and she only weighs 22 pounds
BUT like me she's getting old
And I have to accept that soon Mollie dog will be gone
Maybe one more trip into the wild in September
Then it will just be lonely nights

A willow green
wept at the ravine
doorstep as Cardinals
flew free
into the green apple tree
that grew
next to my favorite mulberry bush
My companion, Abby,
chasing a possum
as I grew on green apples and mulberry seeds
darkness growing her tossing throwing the dead
acting possum
at the valley's doorstep
left me a
mystery.

Sitting on my porch,
A refreshing morning
Breeze gentling blowing,
Conveying aromatic scents
Of yard plants blooming,
The hum of fluttering Bee’s
Seeking Nectar among them.
The songs of early birds
punctuating all this convivial congeniality.
You can not purchase a ticket
to this particular show at any price.
Other than say,
An invitation to sit beside me.

Young dog at my feet,
Him with full tummy,
Basking in the sun.
I can almost see a smile on his face.  
Already he knows how to live.

There is tranquility here,
In my yard,
Among these plants and trees,
This grass so green, still fresh
With drops of recent rain a dripping,
The ethereal scent,
Of now wet earth arising.

No real need to go a traveling,
Far or even near a field.
I have almost all I need and want,
Right here in my yard,
on this porch of mine.

There is one other strong sensation here,
It is my feelings of utter contentment.
The simple things are always the best.

You know if I am all wrong and there is
a heaven and some how I end up there,
I'm sure there will be three dogs waiting
right there for me.

Rommel my Rottweiler, ******* and tan face
and head, a body like a Bradley Tank, always
watching, always loyal. Liked to stick his big
wet nose up ladies skirts and sniff what they
were hiding there. And like his master, he never
met one he did not like. Self appointed Body
Guard to my little boy and me. Would run
through smoke and flames to protect our little
family of just three, Ian, Rommel and me.

Then there is Rocky, a Boxer breed,  the best
of the best. He never made a misstep, always
knew the way. Calm and intuitive in an almost
spooky way. Could read my mind, anticipate
my moods and moves. A tower of canine power,
gentle and loving companion and friend.
I could wade a stream, casting a fly, go for
miles and never wonder where he was, turn
my head and there he stood, on a boulder,
or up on a cliff. He would follow me anywhere
and never ever stray. He was a ROCK and
thus earned his name.

Then there would be Max. Steady as a summer
rain, gentle as a baby lamb. He displayed a
kind of affability seldom seen in man, or dare
I say, even beast. Soft eyes filled with love,
you always knew where you stood. He lived
only to be near to me and what ever I would do.
I dared not speak too harshly to him, as if my
words alone could actually crush his bones.
Far too sensitive for any dog or man. Gentle
and kind as a baby lamb. Open a door and
there he'd be, always waiting just for me.

And if I deserve another chance to join
their most exceptionally congenial company,
a very lucky man I would truly be.

And how could that place be anywhere but
"HEAVEN" ?

I walked my dog this morning
and it was the perfect time for a walk
(thanks Chrissy).

It was just as the morning sun was
making its face known.
I got to see the gentle morning
cloud that coated my childish
forest hills get burned away;
I got to see the familiar mist
on my nearby lake be born,
I had never seen it start to rise,
but this morning, I watched
it grow.

The white light of the sun was
drowned in the atmosphere
to become a gentle yellow that
shown on the trees,
and everything was breathing,
was aglow, with the multitude
of dew that had gathered from
yesterday's rain showers.

Directly against the yellow air,
blue bark gnarled by time,
green mosses with redheads
sticking out in patches within
patches.

Red cardinals flinging themselves and
thrashers too in their characteristic
Spanish flair. Ravens aplenty,
fishing crows too, their ugly cries
adding to the density of elegant
morning conversations.

Among all of this, one bullfrog called
once during the morning walk. I
took a moment to turn and look towards.

Most of all, there were colorful
southern flowers that rang down
in chains, left right one-two's
that drooped with dew, and they
were drained of their former glory
for Spring has been over.

The walk:
a nice good morning and a
reminder of breath, a way
to clear morning thoughts
and bring a hint of the road.

I am an old dog.
Fleas are as much a part of me
By now
As my tail.

I put my head in human laps,
Warm their feet with my body.

I fetch whatever they crave,
Not demanding so much as a
Bellyrub back.
Sad old eyes always looking up
From Omega
To Alpha.

All I ask is not to be kicked.

I am an old dog.
Bruises are as much a part of me
By now
As my tail.