(no subject)

[lizblackdog.livejournal.com]

Praise of a Collie

She was a small dog, neat and fluid -
even her conversation was tiny:
she greeted you with bow, never bow-wow

Her sons stood monumentally over her
but did what she told them. Each grew grizzled
till it seemed he was his own mother's grandfather.

Once, gathering sheep on a showery day,
I remarked how dry she was. Pollochan said, 'Ah,
It would take a very accurate drop to hit Lassie.'

She sailed in the dinghy like a proper sea dog.
Where's a burn? - she's first on the other side.
She flowed through fences like a piece of black wind.

But suddenly she was old and sick and crippled...
I grieved for Pollochan when he took her a stroll
And put his gun to the back of her head.

(Norman MacCaig)