First it was the cats. Now, it’s the dogs.
Dogs are writing poetry. I am not making this up.
Don’t believe me? Try “Another Bag”:
Love
True, unbridled love
Is looking at what I just did
On the sidewalk
Then picking it up in a bag
I can only imagine as a treasured keepsake
Wow, the collection you must have by now.
Only a dog could have written that. I know that for a fact. We had a dog, a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, for 14 years. We used 16, 000 plastic sandwich bags in assembling our collection from the sidewalk. He also considered it an honor for us to pick it up.
Or, if it’s not coming out of a dog, it’s what going in. If there is one most favorite thing in the entire canine universe, it’s not loyalty, or companionship, or playing fetch. You know what it is:
Food
Food food food
Food food food food
Food food
Food
Who says a dog
Can’t write a love sonnet?
Our spaniel would eat anything. Anything. He’d leap at fireflies and Japanese beetles, loose pepperonis from a teenager’s pizza party, paper, and anything—anything—found on the floor. His favorite time of the day was dinner time—our dinner time. He’d station himself in front of the refrigerator, pretending to be asleep but actually looking for anything that might accidentally hit the floor. He had a three-second rule—if we couldn’t pick it up within three seconds, he owned it.
What he did for cats, Francesco Marciuliano has now done for dogs: I Could Chew on This: And Other Poems by Dogs.
It could have been subtitled “The 14 Years of My Life Spent with Cody the Spaniel.” Marciuliano knows dogs. He must have known my dog. In this collection of poems, he thinks like a dog. I’m half-convinced he is a dog. The other half of me is convinced he’s a cat.
Dogs write poems about you going on a trip. (We had to hide the suitcases from ours, and sneak him off to the kennel so he wouldn’t realize what was happening). Dogs write poems about having anxiety attacks while you’re in the bathroom. (Ours did.) Dogs write poems about taking a bath. (After you taking a trip, baths are likely the most hated things by dogs.) Dogs write poems about stampeding to the door when the doorbell rings (Pavlov’s dog, part deux). Dogs write poems about smelling everything (everything). Dogs write poems about dog breath, and divorce, and licking, and sitting, and biting, and chewing, and going to the vet.
Dogs even write poems about meeting your date for the first time, as in “Hello”:
I’m sorry he’s out of breath
I’m sorry he’s in such distress
I’m sorry he’s in a fetal position
Sobbing on the floor
But you know if I could
I most certainly would
Give a head’s-up by yelling “CROTCH!”
Before greeting your date full-speed
at the door
Yes, Marciuliano knows dogs, and knows them well. And I’m amazed he got this group to stay calm long enough to write their poems down. But he did. And they’re wonderfully funny.
And every one is true.
Image by Helga Weber. Sourced via Flickr. Post by Glynn Young, author of the novels Dancing Priest and the recently published A Light Shining.
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Martha Orlando says
Got some grand chuckles out of this, Glynn! Dogs and poetry – who would have thought . . .
Blessings!
Glynn says
Martha, I wouldn’t have thought this, either. But after reading the book — it’s all too obvious.
Ann Kroeker says
My dog sleeps so much, I’m not sure he’s awake long enough to pen a poem. He’s also a quiet, compliant guy who would probably pen an apologetic, insecure kind of poem. I tried to get him to write one just now, but he was asleep. I’m sure it would start something like, “I’m sorry/did I do something wrong?”
Glynn says
Ah, but when he’s sleeping, he’s actually dreaming of new poems to write.
Megan Willome says
I want to see that poem, Ann!
Maureen Doallas says
Hilarious, Glynn. And who says poetry’s no fun?!
Glynn says
The one that had me on the floor laughing was “Hello.” I have almost known dogs like that, empahsis on the “almost.”
Megan Willome says
I once wrote a poem about one of my dogs that ate my broccoli. That’s true desperation.
Glynn says
Megan, you could have entitled it “Dogs DO eat anything.”
Elizabeth W. Marshall says
You uncover and share the most wonderful things Glynn, thank you . Today was a day I needed humor, my soul is sad and you brought joy. So grateful for this. And I am an off the charts dog lover. I will be giving this as a gift to my mother who is ill (thus the sad soul) who is also an off the charts dog lover.
Thanks for making life fun and this space joy-filled.
Glynn says
I’m going to ask the author how much of the royalties actually go to the dogs. Of course, they’d eat the check before they cashed it, so never mind.
I’m glad it brought a smile.
davis says
We can’t have cat poetry without dog poetry. That just wouldn’t seem right. Now i’m beginning to wonder if there may be room for goldfish poetry…
Glynn says
I draw the line at snake poetry. Or rat poetry. Or spider poetry. But especially snake poetry.
Morgan Dragonwillow says
Sounds funny and since I love dogs, I love to laugh, and I love poetry I will check it out.
Glynn says
Thanks for reading and commenting.
Nancy Franson says
Since taking on the poetry dare with Megan, she’s shared several dog poems with me. I’m so glad this book exists and that you highlighted it here. I have no use for cats. But dogs?
I remain convinced I’d be a much better writer if only I had a Labrador sleeping at my feet beneath my desk.
Glynn says
I just received word that 4,000 cat poets are organizing a protest in front of your house.
Louise Etheridge says
I’m totally late to the party, Glynn, but I enjoyed reading your review as much as I enjoyed Marciuliano’s poetry. You’ve both got an incredible lightness of touch as well as humour (obviously).
Glynn says
If I divulged the degree to which my family projects personalities on to dogs, I’d likely be embarrassed. And I’m the worst offender. I used to write Christmas stories about our pets for my sons when they were children.
Louise Etheridge says
Sounds normal to me. I have lively conversations with a flotilla of late guinea pigs all the time. I probably need to get out more.
Julie Sumner says
Hi Glynn, thank you for bringing some much-needed attention to this hysterical book…and dogs…and poetry!
Here is a poem about my dog, Daisy, and my neighbor, Nancy…. Daisy confused Nancy’s iPhone with a chew toy, and this is the poem that she wrote as a means of pennance.
What the Dog Tells Me.
by Julie Sumner
The dog is barking again,
Telling me everything she knows–
Telling me my neighbor Nancy
Has the audacity
To roll her garbage can to the curb–
A menacing gesture to be sure.
The dog is barking again,
Telling me everything she knows–
Telling me she was mistaken
That in fact
Nancy is being carried away
By the evil garbage can,
Its dripping mouth agape–
We should do something now
Before it’s too late!
The dog is barking again,
Telling me everything she knows–
Telling me it’s ok after all,
The garbage can is frozen in fear
At the din of such a terrible bark,
Nancy escapes a putrid fate,
And lives to take her garbage out
On another sun-washed day.