I’m going to share something from “The Paris Review,” it’s one of my yearly expenses and I’m reading of the works of many people past and present. What is the “Paris Review” you ask.
- The Paris Review, American literary quarterly founded in 1953 by Peter Matthiessen, Harold L. Humes, and George Plimpton, with Plimpton also serving as the first editor. It is an English-language review modeled on the independent literary magazines (also known as “ little magazines ”) published in Paris in the 1920s.
After reading this poem in the most recent review, I could not but look at my own pets down through the years, especially dogs.
My dogs started with a Mutt named Lady, I can not remember when she crossed the Rainbow Bridge. However I do know the loss of a pet can be an emotionally devastating experience. I do know Lady was my pal early in life back in the 40’s. Somewhere around the age of 9 or 10 we adopted Scarlet & Amber, Dalmations from the same litter. They were inseparable and lasted at most, and I’m guessing, a month? They had to be returned as they were not good house pets I was told.
Next was Co Co, full name CoCO Mimi Celest by Hecht. I turned that girl into a hunting a dog, ten yards out, back and forth, Quail, Grouse, Pheasant or whatever, kick it to the air she would. She loved the hedgerows of Burlington County, NJ back in the late 50’s and early 60’s. Most of those hedge rows and birds no longer exist. The only downfall of this girl was, she hated getting her feet wet. Whenever we came to a stream, I’d cross, lay the Shotgun down and return for CoCo’s ride across the water.
In 1969 or 70 I brought home from work a medium sized scruffy wire haired dog named Ping. The name, she used to lay beneath the Ping Pong table at the firehouse I worked at. An old LaFrance (1947) 100 ft aerial ladder truck co. in Hartford, CT is what I rode. Back in the day I like to say.
The Mrs. wasn’t too keen on this pathetic looking creature and I remember her saying, “If he so much as nips once, any of the children, out he goes. The kids, a new born, one, 1 yo and another age 3. Never a nip, had that wonderful pet for a good ten years. Called her Ping the Wonder Dog back in the day.
A Yellow Lab with the name of Saucy would also join us those years in Connecticut. Once the fruit of the vine appeared, we continuously found Cucumbers on our lawn from neighbors gardens, the Lords bounty.
After my retirement from the CT State Police we moved to the Eastern Shore of Maryland, a sort of compromise between Maine, the Mrs. choice, and Florida, my choice. We wound up getting a Black Lab – Mix, and what we suspect was the father, a Collie named Chief. That Mutts name was Troop.
We would have a Marsh and a Duke along the way. Next to last we had a Maggi, a Standard Poodle and presently, another Standard Poodle, Benjamin.
Many of the atributes mentioned in the poem I am about to share existed in one or all of our past canines.
Without further ado, I share with you.
| Erica Jong Jubilate Canis (With apologies to Christopher Smart) For I will consider my dog Poochkin (& his long-lost brothers, Chekarf & Dogstoyevsky). For he is the reincarnation of a great canine poet. For he barks in meter, & when I leave him alone his yelps at the door are epic. For he is white, furry, & resembles a bathmat. For he sleeps at my feet as I write & therefore is my greatest critic. For he follows me into the bathroom & faithfully pees on paper. For he is almost housebroken. For he eats the dog food I give him but also loves Jarlsberg swiss cheese. For he disdains nothing that smells— whether feet or roses. For to him, all smells are created equal by God— both turds and perfumes. For he loves toilet bowls no less than soup bowls. For by watching, I have understood democracy. For by watching him, I have understood democracy. For he turns his belly toward God & raises his paws & penis in supplication. For he hangs his pink tongue out of his mouth like a festival banner for God. For though he is male, he has pink nipples on his belly like the female. For though he is canine, he is more humane than most humans. For when he dreams he mutters in his sleep like any poet. For when he wakes he yawns & stretches & stands on his hind legs to greet me. For, after he shits, he romps and frolics with supreme abandon. For after he eats, he is more contented than any human. For in every room he will find the coolest corner, & having found it, he has the sense to stay there. From issue no. 71 (Fall 1977) |
| Don’t forget to check on the elderly. theRooster |
As The Rooster Crows 
Fun read ..Louie says hi!  He was a good yet headstrong poodle for his training with the MONKS OF NEW SKETE.  Â
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I used to read the Paris Review, especially for their profiles of various writers. Then, everything went behind the paywall, and that was the end of that.
I’ve never had a dog, and to be honest never have wanted one, but there’s no questioning the bonds that exist between dogs and their humans. If you haven’t come across poet Mary Oliver’s book Dog Songs, I think you might enjoy it!
Shall check out Dog Songs. Thanks!
Most amusing! I’m just starting, having lived with only two dogs so far — son John $’s Sadie and grandson David’s Kacey.
Think of you all down therein the Mts often. Took the Acela to CT last week for granddaughter’s HS graduation, thought of John. What a great ride!
How lovely that you could drive to CT for the graduation!
I commend you on your memory! I think mine is on the dresser, or maybe the table.
The older we get, the more we have George.
Thank you for sharing such a wonderful story. It is amazing how a poem can bring back such memories and emotions. It is heartwarming to know that you had such a loving and special relationship with Lady. Those memories will stay with you forever. Thank you for the post.
To add, when our so was, maybe 7 or 8, he was out by our Cherry tree with the wife and Ping, who never left his side when out. Up on the Telephone Pole was a Ma Bell repairman. Son Matthew says, ‘Hey Mister, see this dog, it’s a Police dog.” “Sure kid” says the man. Moments later I exit the house in my State Police uniform, hop in my unmarked cruiser and head off to work the evening shift. Guess in a way, Ping was a Police dog. Thanks for the comment.
This is a really touching piece that brings up so many emotions. I’m sure it has resonated with many readers, myself included. Pets bring us so much joy and it’s so hard to lose them. Thank you for sharing this story and your memories, it was really special.
So loyal, so many Treats.
That’s a really beautiful and touching story. It brought back so many memories for me too. Animals are truly a part of the family and it’s hard to go through the loss of them. It’s so special to have had that connection with your dog Lady and the Dalmatians. It’s a reminder of how special animals are and how much they mean to us. Thank you for sharing this story.
Thanks Laura, Ben is upon my feet as I respond.