some poodles turn grey

Poem #7 from: Memoir of a Dog

Back to Memoir of a Dog – Introduction


they made a movie
about hanging rock

schoolgirls clambering up the path
surrounded by some kind of eeriness
before they disappeared without a trace
somewhere near the summit

it’s supposed to be haunted
whether by white ghosts or aboriginal spirits
I’ve never been sure

but
I do know it’s a great place for a picnic
only a couple of hours north of the city
and that’s where we’re heading for a day out

the station wagon is getting a little old now
starting to need an oil top-up between regular servicing
but it’s worked well for us with our two small kids
room for all the luggage in the back
easy to access

now
of course
we move around a little differently
have to arrange the travelling things
so that they leave a clear space
in the centre
room for sparky to sit
with his head resting on the seatback
in between the boys
where they can pat him on the muzzle
murmur gentle words to him
in exchange for a lick
before he turns around three times
and settles to sleep
he’s a pretty good traveller

~

it’s unusual
sparky can’t seem to settle down on the drive
he looks distinctly out of sorts

yips occasionally

we wonder if he may be ailing
speak words of comfort to him

doesn’t seem to help much

~

the sparkler is sitting up
waiting for release when the tailgate is raised
he’s shivering
and looks distinctly uncomfortable

a pat on the flank as the leash is attached
feels moist
slippery

there is oil on my fingers
and the freshly washed dog
is a dirty colour

the carpet in the back of the car
is soaked and dark
the plastic container of motor oil
lies on its side
minus the lid

~

well
what can you do

wipe the dog down
with a towel
un-drown the luggage
pull the carpet out

look at each other

anyone for a picnic


© Frank Prem 2009

Memoir of a Dog Poem 8: knock before entering

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