Splendor in the Grass

In Central Illinois, as in many parts of this country, it is not unusual to see a dog tethered in a yard: kept on a chain in all extremes of weather, with nothing to reduce boredom and no affection provided—sometimes little even in the way of nourishment given. Their “guardians” unintentionally (or otherwise) practice benign neglect. I’d like to relieve all such guardians of their duty.

So it’s somewhat embarrassing to admit that our crazy canine would have liked nothing better than to lollygag in a yard all day and night. She had an inquisitive nature (“Nosy Nellie” we often called her) and was supremely interested in watching the comings and goings of everyone in our neighborhood.

This photo was taken during a visit to my grandmother’s home. We call it “Dog on a Rope.” Only we say it as one word: dogonarope. We learned that it’s an inside joke. Whenever we tried to explain it to folks in our urban neighborhood, a PETA look spread across their faces as soon as we mentioned keeping our mutt in the yard. They never really heard the rest of the story.

That’s okay. It’s just one more memory of the pooch I have tucked away for a future of reminiscing.

Grief

“…an octopus inside me: it squeezed my heart and then crawled to my throat…”
—Anne Philipe, in No Longer than a Sigh