dogs
off lead
what do you do
with a dog like you
sniffing with his snout
running about
can’t hear a thing
so you have to shout
woolly as a rhino
extinct – I know
lived in the Pleistocene
Pleistocene not Plasticine
(is this really a poem about Stanley?
I think you’re getting sidetracked, sadly)
how to proceed
with Stanley off lead
yeti grade feet
tail so sweet
following his nose
back for a treat
lairy as loki
the series was hokey
Hiddelston charming
the dialogue jarring
(look – this is NOT a poem about dogs;
go find yourself another job)
the stanley anomaly
about 4 billion years ago
give a take a week or so
our Last Universal Common Ancestor
did its single cellular best ta
scrape a living around some vents
which as livings go is quite intense
fast forward through the family tree
and we end up with a dog called Stanley
half grey wolf, half old sofa
a perfectly adapted eater and loafer
a mishmash of such indescribable looks
Darwin would’ve tossed his books
stanley’s poppins
(with sincere apologies to the Sherman bros.)
aaoooowh….
Supersmellystinkystanleyexpelwhiffatrocious
Even just the sound of him is something quite ferocious
If he lets off next to you you’ll have a bad thrombosis
Supersmellystinkystanleyexpelwhiffatrocious
bum did a little whistle bum did a sigh
bum did a little whistle bum did a sigh
One day I heard a funny squeak when I was on the rug
I gave my nose a little tweak to guard it from the fug
But then it hit me properly and nature did the rest
And as they laid my body out these fateful words I said…
aaoooowh….
(repeat ad nauseam….)
king stanley
Stanley
lies grandly
on the sofa
his paws spilling over
hauteur supernova
only lacking a chauffeur
to hurry and go for
the bentley
the appropriate car for a
lurcher like this
evidently
writing sketch 1
one flew over the lurcher’s basket
occasionally
Stanley
would spectacularly
stretch out on his side on the floor
give his front left leg a gnaw
with a howl that was deafening
his back legs pedalling
all in all it was pretty unsettling
like the poor thing was wrestling
invisible wolves in life or death matches
these desperate episodes coming in batches
of twos maybe threes
so we took him to the vet’s, obviously
and she said unfortunately
I think your dog has epilepsy
(although to be sure she’d need more tests
which at his age would cause him undue stress
so maybe a palliative route was best)
the medication made him a zombie
a listless lurcher / throw pillow combi
till cutting the pills seemed kinder and easier
we’d see how we went with just analgesia
and suddenly he was cured!
a lot more settled and self-assured
Differential diagnosis?
it’s probably because he’s quite a diva
in acting terms a high-achiever
making the most out of low level pain
the kind you might get from a muscle strain
(still haven’t taken him back to the vet:
WAAAY too embarrassed to tell her yet)
a glitch in the machine
Stanley’s sick
glitchy, arthritic
his howls quite loud and apocalyptic
scuffling his paws
on the floor
as he wildly gnaws
at a phantom pain he can’t ignore
burying his face
in the exact same place
he’s gnawed before
(the top of his left thigh)
Why Stanley? WHY?
we leap off the sofa
and hurry straight over
like physios from the dugout
to massage his muscle and straighten the rug out
it seems to work
we ease the jerks
and even though the procedure’s hazardous
he rises again like a shaggy Lazarus
and, glad it’s all over,
has a quick shake and leaps on the sofa
we sent the vet a video clip;
we’ve yet to hear what she thinks of it
and the golden paw goes to…
Stanley’s claws need clipping
‘cos his paws keep slipping
on the laminate floor
unfortunately
because although it scores
pleasingly for ease of cleaning
for long-legged dogs it’s less appealing
and sometimes Stan spins around on his snoot
like Bambi on ice but not so cute
Stan HATES the groomer;
he’d really rather sooner
offer his paws
to the slavering jaws
of a grizzly bear
than have them scissored by the assistant there
(it’s bad enough
when you give him a brush;
his acting would make even Jim Carrey blush)
so – the vet’s it is
and it’s a pretty sticky business
the vet cries what in God’s name IS this?
Can I get a hand in here, Jenny?
I think this lurcher’s up for an Emmy
jim clayton 