On dogs and some men.

My new dog cowers.
He has submit written on his forehead.
Even my Mini-Foxy can have him retreating,
Head and ears down,
Crouched,
Tail held stiffly between his legs.

He is my new dog,
Because his owners,
Lovers of many dogs,
Knew that he was bottom of the pack.
The alpha male,
A tall border collie was his constant torment.
He as a young entire male,
Would not have any place in this pack.

The law of the jungle,
Use violence to maintain power.
But we humans are not dogs,
We can make better choices,
More 'humane' choices.

My friend has a broken heart.
A broken spirit,
And her beautiful face is broken too.
In the pack,
At the party,
She found herself excluded.
She upset the alpha male,
Her boyfriend.
So his pack set on her.
Beat her and left her unconscious,
On a suburban street.

Same law of the bully,
Just a different jungle.

Precious

Precious our mini-foxy is brave.
She runs at the pony's hooves yapping,
To show that she is on duty.
She chases the small birds,
That invade our territory.
And sounds her loud warning bark,
At the approach of any strange car,
Or human on foot.

Precious watches over my daughter,
Who gets fatigued,
By her nightmare induced insomnia,
And makes her feel safe.
She sleeps in her pink bean-bag at the foot of the bed,
With one ear open.
Sometimes, when it is too cold,
Or she can't be bothered,
She defecates inside the house.
We forgive her this small indiscretion,
Because she is brave...

At least when we are at home with her.

Blind, Deaf, Geriatric Dog

If we had not been watching out for wildlife,
Roads thick with roos and wombats,
We might not have seen her white coat against the black,
Or caught her eyeshine in the headlights.
We did a 'Uie' and turned around,
Just to check.

If we had not picked up the cold fluffy circle of dog,
Sitting in the middle of the country road
She would have been an icicle by morning.
At nine o'clock it was minus three degrees.
We wrapped her in a woolen blanket
She snuggled down into the foot-well,
And didn't make a sound.

If we had not let her sleep the night,
In a wicker basket in our room.
We may not have woken,
To the multitude of small puddles on the carpet. 
She ate her food,
And  we carried her out onto the frosty grass.
She didn't respond to our voices,
And walked in small circles.

If we hadn't watched her bump around our bedroom,
Tripping over slippers, tipping the basket and getting stuck under the cot,
We would not have realized that she was both blind and deaf.
We made an appointment with the vet,
In case she had a head injury.

If it had not been such a small community,
And that the ladies like to keep up with the 'goss', via facebook.
She may not have so quickly,
Found her way home.
And we may not of discovered that,
The fluffy white puppy,
Was in fact a blind, deaf, geriatric dog.


 
  

Opportunist

The table is easily accessed,
If a chair is nearby.
All the delectable appetizers carefully arranged,
Each on its own plate.
The aromas tease and tempt,
Seductively stinging the nostrils with an aroma,
That tantalises the palate,
The clear fluid of anticipation,
Flows into the mouth.
Hesitation.
She knows it is forbidden,
And the consequences,
If she is discovered.
Yet she will descend to her base instincts.
And make that illicit climb.
Chihuahuas are just like that. 

Natural Cycles vs reality of life in the21st Century

The cycles of birth, growth and death cannot be escaped from,
But they may be morphed.
I plant my garlic in April and my tomatoes in November.
Commercial growers in their irrigated, temperature-regulated greenhouses,
Plant any time of the year.
My veggies are in soil enriched with manure and compost,
Mulched with old straw.
Commercial veggies may not even have their feet in the earth,
But in an NPK chemical-cocktail.
My fruit feels the cold of frosts, moisture of rain,
And has the light of the Sun and Moon on its flesh.
Commercial Fruit, gassed, waxed and polished is stored the long year.

And while I like to follow the patterns of nature,
As a human being:
I still use artificial light to stay up later than my body finds healthy.
I travel  in a carbon-spewing vehicle much faster than my two legs can transport me.
I regulate my behaviour to the machinations of  human society,
And bow to the responsibilities of its membership.
I work in an air-conditioned, artificially-lit and computerised building.
I buy products wrapped in packaging that takes an eon to decompose.
I follow like a sheep, the commercialised festivals of the year,
All of which I abhor.
I am a consumer!

How to reclaim the natural cycles of being a human animal?

Dogs

I have three.
Lab, Foxy and Kelpie
The same species.
Yes apparently they can successfully interbreed.
But the mechanics of that....
And their looks?

And why three?
Indoor and outdoor,
Working and playing.
Running and petting.

My Lab has a golden coat of raised velvet.
Too run my hand through this mane makes me calm.
My kelpie excites activity and invites me to join him in a run,
(preferably chasing sheep about.)
Foxy welcomes me home with her characteristic yodel and mad scrambling,
Her tiny claws make excited scratching sounds on the floor-boards.

And that's the dogs.