posted on May 11, 2007 12:35:35 PM new
This is one of our favorite poems by Ogden Nash:
Two Dogs Have I
For years we've had a little dog,
Last year we acquired a big dog;
He wasn't big when we got him,
He was littler than the dog we had.
We thought our little dog would love him,
Would help him to become a trig dog,
But the new little dog got bigger,
And the old little dog got mad.
Now the big dog loves the little dog,
But the little dog hates the big dog,
The little dog is eleven years old,
And the big dog only one;
The little dog calls him Schweinhund,
The little dog calls him Pig-dog,
She grumbles broken curses
As she dreams in the August sun.
The big dog's teeth are terrible,
But he wouldn't bite the little dog;
The little dog wants to grind his bones,
But the little dog has no teeth;
The big dog is acrobatic,
The little dog is a brittle dog;
She leaps to grip his jugular,
And passes underneath.
The big dog clings to the little dog
Like glue and cement and mortar;
The little dog is his own true love;
But the big dog is to her
Like a scarlet rag to a Longhorn,
Or a suitcase to a porter;
The day he sat on the hornet
I distinctly heard her purr.
Well, how can you blame the little dog,
Who was once the household darling?
He romps like a young Adonis,
She droops like an old mustache;
No wonder she steals his corner,
No wonder she comes out snarling,
No wonder she calls him Cochon
And even Espèce de vache.
Yet once I wanted a sandwich,
Either caviar or cucumber,
When the sun had not yet risen
And the moon had not yet sank;
As I tiptoed through the hallway
The big dog lay in slumber,
And the little dog slept by the big dog,
And her head was on his flank.
posted on May 11, 2007 04:11:25 PM new
Thanks, Roadsmith! I'm not the biggest dog fan but admire good ones and what they can do.
Here's a true story you may like.
My husband was at an outdoor auction at a beautiful farm. A buyer had brought his dog, a very well-trained female Lab/Terrier cross who carried her tennis ball everywhere she went. She would drop it at someone's feet, they would throw it for her and off she'd go...only to return it to someone else's feet to repeat the performance. Whether the person was standing or sitting she would drop it at their feet....until she got to the kid sitting in his wheelchair...she dropped it gently in his lap.
posted on May 11, 2007 06:22:36 PM new
Mingo, love your dog story.
Mine is very different! A friend of ours and her husband bred standard poodles. The husband heard of a dog show in a nearby town and decided to show their prize poodle. Washed him, dressed him, put a ribbon around his neck, etc. Drove to the show in a large field, got out and he and the dog strolled around the field. He didn't see many dogs there so thought his chances were good for a blue ribbon. Noticed lots of pretty girls, though. Asked someone where the contest was because he'd brought his dog, and was told it was a beauty contest--for real people. Drove home in abject shame.
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There is more to life than increasing its speed. --Mahatma Gandhi
