Poetry Page
I've seen the Rocky Mountains,
And the Gulf of Mexico,
The California surfers,
And palm trees by the row.
I've read the works of Shakespeare,
And seen Picasso's paint,
The sounds of concert pianists,
And heard the bagpipes quaint.
And all of these have thrilled me,
But not one could compare
With watching collies working ~
A single or a pair.
There's magic in each movement
That Mozart never had,
And beauty in each turn
That makes my heart feel glad.
There's science in each answer
Of every whistled tone
That Newton never thought of,
Nor ever was he shown.
There's feeling in the handling
That only poets know,
Or men that work with sheep dogs
And feel the team work grow.
Wherever life may take you
In sunshine or in fog,
You'll never quite forget it
When once you've worked a dog.
This is a tribute to one of the finest dogs that I have ever been privileged to have a partnership with. My Sally, she was a working sheepdog, mainly white with black ears and a black spot on her back, I used a little bit of poetic licence with the first verse because I didn't have her till she was thirteen weeks old.
To my eyes she was perfect, she did every job I ever asked her to, including sheepdog trials and becoming C only in obedience. She brought me my shoes in a morning, she told us when my son was going to have an epileptic fit, long before we knew what the problem was, she was friend nursemaid and mentor to us all, Sally we salute you.
THE PASSING YEARS
AH! Look a pup,
The little treasure,
Only just born,
Stretched out in leisure
She's eight weeks old,
Her jabs are due,
Doesn't do as she's told,
Not yet! She's new.
Off for a walk,
She's growing stronger,
Goes dog training now,
A pup no longer.
Two years old and she is stunning,
Like a racehorse, when she is running,
Knows she's pretty and so clever,
Imagine life without her?Oh! No Never.
Five years old and in her prime,
Not so pushy, can take time,
Always there and never moody,
Just like a best friend always would be.
Ten years old and getting slower,
Eyes are clouding, footsteps lower,
Still loves her work, and plays a lot,
Dinners ready she's in like a shot.
Thirteen now and definitely ageing,
Hearing going, steadily changing,
Still loves her walk, but, slower now,
Wants to please and she knows how.
Sixteen years of faithful friendship,
Never once did she ask why,
This loving faithful honest creature,
Finally breathed her last goodbye.
Linda T.
INJURIES
By D. Hughes - Baloo's Dad
Dedicated to the over fifty agiliters
I pulled a muscle last night in class,
I've got a great big bandage to prove it,
It's not so bad if I keep it still,
But gives me hell if I move it.
It's rather lucky my twisted knee,
is almost entirely well,
But I'll have to look after the ankle
That's recently started to swell.
My instep is nearly better,
And the pain in my toes getting less,
But the ligaments round the back of my heel
Are rather a nasty mess
I had a few days of concussion,
An error with my dog Mig,
It's only a hairline fracture, But the bump is uncommonly big.
My shoulder has never been quite the same,
Since my dog got out of hand,
And twizzed me wildly on the course,
And I ended up in the sand.
O! It's lovely to do agility,
But to my eternal sorrow,
I've decided it's too rough for me,
So I'm taking up Rugby tomorrow.
The Beginner
By D. Hughes - Baloo's Dad
I joined an agility class,
We started last September,
I'm trying hard I really am,
But there's so much to remember.
I know the experienced Agiliters,
It's not very hard to spot em,
They gaily start at the top course,
And run down to the bottom
I keep an eye on the trainer,
And one on the course set,
I try to watch my dog as well,
But haven't succeeded yet.
It's very important to know the start,
Of the course to be done,
If you're not sure after the first few times,
You're sure to be lost as you run.
Everyone is very helpful,
And tells me what to do,
But I get mixed up with my directions,
Is it right? Or left? Wouldn't You?
But I'm going to keep on trying,
Even if I land on my ear,
And maybe I'll know which command to give,
By the end of an agility year.
OLD FRIENDS
By D. Hughes - Baloo's Dad
We're a group of Agiliters,
And our age is showing thro,
Our ageing feet don't always,
Do the things we want them to.
We sometimes don't remember what to do,
And so often take short cuts,
I'm sure any youngster watching us,
Would no doubt think we're nuts
Our muscles may be bandaged up,
Our rheumatism bad,
But when we're really old,
We'll think of all the fun we had
The crippling agony of cramp,
The running in the sleet,
Assorted ligaments we've pulled,
The aching of the feet.
Oh! Happy days of jolly fun,
And when the season ends,
The main thing we are left with,
Is a lovely lot of friends.
The End
Rocky and Rory
Thieves beware we are having a Rottie, car broken into so, it drove us potty,
Some in the paper not too far away, let's go and look at them, Today!
Daddy was fearsome handsome and stunning, mummy was quieter but very cunning.
Choice of a pup there were just the two, lets take the small one his eyes are all running.
Well! The vet said, he's had a virus, are you sure you've not been had
Teeth are pitted and so yellow, and his eyes are bouncing bad.
No, We love him, he's our puppy whether or not he has no sight,
we know we will nurse him better and one day he'll be just right.
Loved his grub this Rottie did, once ate a chocolate cake right off,
Followed by a bucket of food, thought it was good for a laugh,
All night long I stayed up with him, thinking he'll be sick,
Not a morsel came back up, he had another trick.
Rocky was our first Rott wise and kind though blind,
Only four years were granted us, leaving desolation behind,
Enter Rory, what a dog! But he isn't Rocky,
I know we can't replace him, but this pup is so cocky.
Big and strong and playful, full of self-esteem,
He is very wilful, will we make a team?
Many times in training I was plastered to the wall,
As this mighty powerful dog, raced swiftly to my call.
Then we took up dancing, Rory loved the scene,
Proudly his legs prancing, oh! He was so keen,
He could waltz this clever boy, times many showed his talents,
Timing poise and humour, gaily bound up in his balance.
Once when he defended me, from a nasty man,
Big and strong and bold he looked, as only true Rott's can,
The man thought he would challenge me, and then he saw my Rory,
I was just going home said he, huh! A likely story!
The day that we will never forget poor Rory came back lame;
Perhaps he's pulled a ligament, here's something for the pain.
The days went by with no respite, Rory still was hobblin'
I think we need another vet, to diagnose the problem.
At eight years old the new vet said, the future does look grim,
Look at the lump upon his leg, I think we'll x-ray him,
Unfortunately, he was right it was the dreaded Big C,
We'll keep him comfortable, and then see when his time must be.
This noble dog, this lifelong friend, our hearts were filled with pain,
We knew very well that without him, life would never be the same,
He passed away so quietly as if he'd never been
Even in death our noble friend refused to make a scene.
The memories of this fabulous dog always will haunt me,
Every time I hear his waltz; I picture him and me,
At Crufts and Discover Dogs, Yes! On TV too,
The world will be a sadder place with the loss of a heart so true.
R.I.P. Rory - Linda T.
In Pensive Mode
Where do we go wrong when choosing friends
What makes us want to trust them
Why do people twist the words
Trying to make others respect them
As we wander through life's story
Different plots unfold
Some people want all the glory
Others, must, needs be told
For those who do just want a name
Stop for a second and think
Do you want to live with the shame
And living on the truth edge brink
How dim will be the shallow praise
How hollow former victory
Deeds uncovered to people's gaze
Find you were never sin free
The truth is you were so shortsighted
You'll wish you could become
The honest person, known and liked
Instead of trying to live with spite
I look across the years of friendship
And realise, there was none,
You used me for your own gain
And still I carried on
If greed had not lent a hand
We could have been there still
Perhaps I still would have thought you grand
Whilst you would wait for a kill
What drove you on to be dishonest
What motivation level
I hope it's worth the torment
When dining with the devil
Linda T.
