To Dream of Dogs
Posted: October 1st, 2008, 1:09 pm
Hi, Gang!
This here new thread, which I do most fervently hope to continue & grow, as has the Record Party, & Candids & Sailor Walks In, is a place to talk about the Dogs in Our Lives
a subject which, as you all by now know, is intimately close to my heart, and one which I suspect is pretty darn close to the hearts of many of yourselves, as well . .
Don't have a dogger in your life right now? Share pix and/or memories of the one(s) you used to share your home with, or maybe that unforgettable canine you grew up with, or remember most fondly. Devoted instead to a cat or two, or rodent(s), bird(s) or reptile(s)? Keep horses or livestock?
Hey, no disrespect, Folks, by this thread's about D O G S, 'kay? If you wish to honor another species of pet, by all means, begin a thread just for them! It's democracy at it's finest!
Now, as to the reason for this thread, at this time?
Seems I went ahead and misidentified those two sweethearts posing with Leslie Howard over in Mongo's CANDIDS thread: I nailed 'em as Springer Spaniels (couldn't zero-in on Welsh or English, so I left it generic) - but, past expertise notwithstanding I was right only in that they were from the Sporting Group - and our heavensent la Jefe, Moira, rode to the rescue, letting me down gently with a PM to clarify my mistake . . a PM which was so moirishly bright & well-worded it wound up inspiring this whole idea for a "dog city" thread . .
Oh, and BTW: they were English Setters, not Spaniels at all; Moira spotted (no pun intended) my error because she'd owned one of these delightful creatures, and now, thanks to her remembered tribute to her, I feel like I knew her, too!
Hopefully, this will trans-inspire the irrepressible Ms. Finnie to post herein and transcribe that very PM, which I'm itching to share with you all, but I feel is hers alone to contribute here, by etiquette & site protocol.
But, I shall surge forward nonetheless in sharing excerpts from my favorite poem, called to mind this morning by that very PM;
- from The Malamute, by Pat O'Cotter, circa 1918:
"He's a real chum with things coming easy,
He's a pal with things breaking tough,
He's a hell-roarin' fighting companion
When somebody starts something rough.
"He's a true Friend in sorrow & sickness,
And he doesn't mind hunger or cold,
And he's really the only pardner
You can trust if you uncover gold.
"He's a guard you can trust at the sluice box,
And he'll watch by your cache thru the night,
And if some cheechako tries to molest it,
That cheechako's in for a fight!
"He pulls on our sleds in the winter
He's first in the rushing stampede
He goes where a horse couldn't travel
And besides that he rustles his feed.
"He takes a pack saddle in summer
And follows us off thru the hills
And when we go short on the grub pile
He shares up whatever he kills.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
"But you can't tell me God would make Heaven
So a man couldn't mix with his friends;
That we're doomed to meet disappointment
When we come to the place the trail ends.
That would be a low-grade sort of Heaven
And I'd never regret a damned sin
If I mush up to those gates, white & pearly,
And they don't let my Malamute in."
This here new thread, which I do most fervently hope to continue & grow, as has the Record Party, & Candids & Sailor Walks In, is a place to talk about the Dogs in Our Lives
a subject which, as you all by now know, is intimately close to my heart, and one which I suspect is pretty darn close to the hearts of many of yourselves, as well . .
Don't have a dogger in your life right now? Share pix and/or memories of the one(s) you used to share your home with, or maybe that unforgettable canine you grew up with, or remember most fondly. Devoted instead to a cat or two, or rodent(s), bird(s) or reptile(s)? Keep horses or livestock?
Hey, no disrespect, Folks, by this thread's about D O G S, 'kay? If you wish to honor another species of pet, by all means, begin a thread just for them! It's democracy at it's finest!
Now, as to the reason for this thread, at this time?
Seems I went ahead and misidentified those two sweethearts posing with Leslie Howard over in Mongo's CANDIDS thread: I nailed 'em as Springer Spaniels (couldn't zero-in on Welsh or English, so I left it generic) - but, past expertise notwithstanding I was right only in that they were from the Sporting Group - and our heavensent la Jefe, Moira, rode to the rescue, letting me down gently with a PM to clarify my mistake . . a PM which was so moirishly bright & well-worded it wound up inspiring this whole idea for a "dog city" thread . .
Oh, and BTW: they were English Setters, not Spaniels at all; Moira spotted (no pun intended) my error because she'd owned one of these delightful creatures, and now, thanks to her remembered tribute to her, I feel like I knew her, too!
Hopefully, this will trans-inspire the irrepressible Ms. Finnie to post herein and transcribe that very PM, which I'm itching to share with you all, but I feel is hers alone to contribute here, by etiquette & site protocol.
But, I shall surge forward nonetheless in sharing excerpts from my favorite poem, called to mind this morning by that very PM;
- from The Malamute, by Pat O'Cotter, circa 1918:
"He's a real chum with things coming easy,
He's a pal with things breaking tough,
He's a hell-roarin' fighting companion
When somebody starts something rough.
"He's a true Friend in sorrow & sickness,
And he doesn't mind hunger or cold,
And he's really the only pardner
You can trust if you uncover gold.
"He's a guard you can trust at the sluice box,
And he'll watch by your cache thru the night,
And if some cheechako tries to molest it,
That cheechako's in for a fight!
"He pulls on our sleds in the winter
He's first in the rushing stampede
He goes where a horse couldn't travel
And besides that he rustles his feed.
"He takes a pack saddle in summer
And follows us off thru the hills
And when we go short on the grub pile
He shares up whatever he kills.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
"But you can't tell me God would make Heaven
So a man couldn't mix with his friends;
That we're doomed to meet disappointment
When we come to the place the trail ends.
That would be a low-grade sort of Heaven
And I'd never regret a damned sin
If I mush up to those gates, white & pearly,
And they don't let my Malamute in."