Saturday, November 24, 2012


Jib here.

Mom wrote another poem for Sailor. She is still sad, but I am helping her be not so sad.

She says, "Zorba danced. I write."


Only his shadow remains.
The shadow of a bark
Echoing in my ear
As the sun reaches toward twilight;
The shadow of a breeze
Swirling in my hand,
 Cold nose on a warm day;
The shadow of the grass
Rippling across the field
As my ghost dog runs by.
The splash in the water bowl,
The click of toenails,
The scent of wet fur -
Mere shadows all
But here,
 Never gone.

Monday, November 12, 2012

(Don't) Go Fly a Kite (Ears)

Jib here.

Kite is having ear woes.

I had ear woes, and after a year and a half, Mom gave up.

But Mom says she can't give up on Kite. Mom says at some point, he's supposed to get all dressed up and go into the conformation ring and run around in circles and stare at cheese. And he needs tipped ears for that.


Does he need tipped ears to hear Mom call him to Front from 50 feet away?

Does he need tipped ears to hear Mom say, "Find Mine" when he's doing Articles?

Does he need tipped ears to hear Mom tell him to Drop when he runs to her on a recall?

Does he need tipped ears for that? And that? And that?

I don't think so.

But Mom isn't going to give up.

So to spare little Kite a world of glue and bother, let's all chant:

Tip, ears, tip!

Thursday, November 1, 2012

I'm Going Home

Sailor here.

I'm going home. Mom told me a long time ago that if I were too lonely without her, I could come back to Earth as her ghost dog.

I am not lonely, but Mom is. She is sad.

So I am going home to be her ghost dog until she smiles again.

I will run next to her and she will see the grass ripple as I run by. She will feel the fleeting touch of my nose in her hand. She will hear the echo of my greeting. I will leap and  bark and she will feel the whisper of my paws on her shoulders.

She will smile.

Then I can be happy.