This post originally appeared in my column in the Financial Chronicle, November 29, 2013, Weekend Edition
Anyone who loves dogs will vouch most ardently that they are indebted to their pets. When we brought home our puppy a few years ago, she saved each one of us. To think that one non- human can change the lives of all in our family without words, without obligation, without responsibility, but through consistent presence and unflinching devotion.
So when I found that Pulitzer Prize winning poet and American icon, Mary Oliver, had published a book of poems, Dog Songs, last month, I was excited. Exquisite poetry and a little prose about our best friends; a combination I could not resist. When the book arrived, I treated it with utmost reverence. Reading a poem, putting it down, picking it up again because I wanted to find out what secrets it unlocked. That is what it was, a little book with a magical key.
Good poetry makes you smile, nod and wonder. Great poetry makes you weep. Sometimes with joy. Many times unlocking some of the sorrow you have kept carefully at bay.
A private person by nature
In her own words, the reclusive poet, who has spent most of her life immersed in the natural world, says, “Writing poems for me, but not necessarily for others, is a way of offering praise to the world.” Lauded as “far and away, the country’s best selling poet”, Oliver’s work is easily accessible through its simple and profound wisdom that is gently threaded with exquisite language. Like the earthy and unshakeable ground that she constantly treads, her genius lies in her ability to act as the perfect interpreter. Always unpretentious, she helps us navigate the realm without losing sight of the truth of tolerance and co-existence.
The song of the dog
It is obvious from her latest offering that the poet speaks from experience. Through the lens of a life that has been enriched by the many dogs she has raised and rescued, she makes it clear that it might have started that way, but they in turn have rescued her right back. The book contains 35 hymns and one essay that carry the reader from puppy breath to growth, from exploration to expiration, extolling the significance of these halfway creatures belonging to two worlds. Half wild, half tame.
“Dogs without leashes”
I am fortunate to live in a neighbourhood that looks feels like a nature park. The houses are hidden, the driveways are meandering and the wildlife mingles without reproach. Most homes have dogs. Most of the time, the dogs are unleashed.
The theme of dogs without leashes runs through the book like a gentle river. Who cannot understand the symbolism of an unfettered life? How many times have you taken your dog outdoors, letting them loose only to revel in their joyous release, the constant stop and sniff, stop and sniff and the circular race. Who has not wished that for themselves? The poet brings us back to our need for control and our need to domesticate and remove the wildness that is so essential for our creativity. In her essay about Sammy, the dog who kept breaking the ropes to run away in search of adventure, she writes, “Maybe it’s about the wonderful things that may happen if you break the ropes that are holding you.”
“For he was of the tribe of Wolf”
This observation around the possessive noun that holds good not just for our pets but each other as well, is a timely reminder. How can one life own another life? No matter the relationship, no one can be truly at ease under a regime of possession.
“A dog comes to you and lives with you in your own house, but you do not,
therefore own her, as you do not own the rain, or the trees, or the laws which pertain to them.”
“As though I were just as wonderful as the perfect moon.”
We grow up being told to become better at every step of the way. Become a better child, student, parent, partner, and employee and on it goes. Not so with your dog. When your dog sees you, there is complete acceptance through eyes that view you as perfection. To your dog, you are the most wonderful, beautiful, interesting person in the world. You don’t age, you are not too fat, you are not too poor, and you are not too stupid.
“And it is exceedingly short, his galloping life”
There are profound and moving eulogies to the ones who left. The poet writes, “We would do anything to keep them with us, and to keep them young. The one gift we cannot give.”
With the passing of these beloved pets, something truly good, solid and consistent about our world disappears. Our dogs remind us every day that despite our frailties, despite our uncertainties, despite the human predilection for some form of self-destruction, they can be counted on to stay the same. They try to keep us sane.