Bark - One Special Dog

The decision was made. We didn’t see it as giving in, relenting to pressure. It was more like the time was right. Lots had been going on in the family and as things settled down, I didn’t want to be thought of as “Mum always said ‘No’”.

 The four of us sat down to tea. Everyone had a small piece of paper, face down, not to be touched until we were ready. I think I should explain, we’re not a completely crazy family, at least not yet, but as parents we took pleasure in turning ordinary things into memorable events sometimes. We took turns to reveal the word or words on the other side.

‘WE’, ‘ARE’, ‘GETTING’, ‘A DOG’. Tea-time took on a party atmosphere as excited children burst with joy and parents knew they’d done exactly the right thing.

 Before involving the children, we’d done some research into the best breeds for a family dog and what would suit us all. I wouldn’t expect our son to be happy walking a ball of fluff with a bow in its hair and something large and heavy would be too much for me to handle. No puppies, either. There were lots of dogs needing a caring home. We would find one. The search began in local kennels and RSPCA homes. I can’t remember how we found North West Springer Spaniel Rescue, but that’s where we found our special Cassie, in their Warrington kennels.

 She was an old, Springer breeding bitch and had been subjected to some neglect since reaching the end of her usefulness. She was deaf and not very playful. She needed regular, short walks, but she was too old to chase a ball. She was perfect for our first family dog. Cassie was quiet. Because of her deafness, we didn’t let her off her lead. She didn’t hear the doorbell, so she never barked. I only remember hearing her bark once.

 We went on the beach at Cleveleys. We thought Cassie might not have experienced sand or sea. The tide was quite a way out, but there was a big pool in a shallow area near the sea wall. Cassie ambled in, water covering her feet and she stood still, taking us by surprise by barking her head off. Thinking she was unhappy, I brought her out, only for her to pull on the lead to go back in and bark again. Clearly she liked it. Perhaps it was the cold water on her feet combined with all the smells that might have been new to her. Bless her.

 She was an old girl of a dog, but she brought much joy in the time we had her. We all loved her. Whatever her life had been like before, we know we did the best we could to fill her twilight years with affection, care and comfort. This happened many years ago and paved the way for another, younger and more active dog, but Cassie will always be special.

Haiku poem for Cassie

Her name was Cassie,
A quiet Springer Spaniel.
She was unhappy.

“All you need is love
And lots and lots of cuddles
To know you’re wanted.”

She was getting old
And neglect had made her sad,
So we brought her home

And loved her to bits.
Our affection filled her days
And she loved us, too.

She was very deaf,
She had to stay on her lead
But she didn’t mind.

She liked a short stroll,
Her running days were over.
She would explore smells.

Once, we heard her bark
In a pool on Cleveleys beach.
She was excited.

It was her laughter,
A moment of enjoyment.
You were special, Cass.

PMW 2023

Thanks for reading, Pam x

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ConFORM

Sonnet, Haiku, Senryu, Epic, Epistolary, Blank, Villanelle, Paradelle, Elegy.  Someone called Gary has counted 55 types of poetic form which makes me think that there the true number is closer to 555.  Some of these forms are rigid in their requirements of rhyme and metre.  Others encourage rebellion, such as Blank Verse, which requires only metre, or Free Verse which tends to follow no rules and Robert Frost described as "like playing tennis without a net".

As the quote above indicates, playing with form is a sort of game - an exercise.  It's one which is used in schools to familiarise students with form while allowing them to express themselves.  Below is an example of a sonnet written by Millie Shepherd, a high school student from Over Wyre. 

Shall I compare your love to refined art?

Not rendered by hue nor pigment but sublime.

Your composition plays a unique part,

In the remarkable mountains you climb.

You can't be broken by fragility,

Or overcome by the childlike spectrum.

Nothing you create hinders ability,

Instead it thaws with natural rhythm.

Your gentle golden brush of affection,

Hath expressed such bewitching imagery,

If such love would ever hint at rejection,

My entire existence would be a query.

If you only ever drew a rainbow,

It could never detract from your halo.

What Millie's poem reveals to me is the power of such an exercise on the direction of a poem.  I think you can see where the structure has guided the language.  This is no bad thing.  How many times have we started to write a poem only to find that the landscape, or chosen form, has redirected our initial efforts so that our final piece is removed from that first idea, sometimes radically so?  I think that structured exercises, and I cound adherence to form as such, is a time-honoured method of challenging those initial thoughts, of pushing ourselves that little bit further.  It's as if the paper is saying to us, 'Yes, that's an intriguing line of thread but let's see what happens to it when you wrap it about a new frame.' 

Of course, sometimes we don't want to be distracted by the frame - we want to communicate our idea in its first shape, without the twist of form.  But when you love to play with words (and we do love to play with words don't we?) there is a real joy in rising to the challenge of a complex structure, of hanging our ideas about a twisted frame. 

OK, it wouldn't be an exercise week without a challenge or two so here's a frame for you to try on... It's the Monostich form, which means a poem that consists of a single line.  Here's an example stolen from the interweb:

COWARD

Bravery runs in my family.

A. R. Ammons

And here is my attempt:

SWEET-EYE

Your licorice laces are untied.

Right.  Off you go...

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