Dog Walk

A poem

Photo by Jack Anstey on Unsplash

Bright sunshine, cold sea wind invigorates
Lifting our spirits like blossoms opening
My dog rushes about full of joy, running for the thrill
As I also once did

The boats bob up and down on the choppy water
Skiffs, yachts and fishing boats
Pulling at their moorings, anxious to be off
And explore every inlet

I’m gazing out to sea, looking for my landmarks
Just avoid colliding with the same silly post
Which stops towing cars turning left, or right
If bringing in a boat

This is where seahorses thrive and get cast up
Where men dig for cockles in the shingle
When tide is out, unveiling ocean foods
And dogs roll in the smells

Oystercatchers throng around, heads bob bobbing
Greedy gulls steal all they can, nature or man’s
Egrets when the tide is in all in married couples
Pied wagtails pecking too

Published in The Lark


Walking My Dog

When I’m walking with my dog
I need to get in his groove

The 40 yards where I use the lead
I just get pulled and pulled

When he reaches a certain spot
I find I’m yanked to a stop
Cos that’s where he’s got do
What a dog’s got to do

Lead’s off so should he run on the beach
Or run to the launching trailer
To do what he does
Seconds of indecision and then
He does both

As he gallops on ahead i hope
There will be no shopping bags
For him to stick his nose in or worse

If they’re beside a bench
He’ll do what he does

Now I see him again and he’s nose down
In the tufts of plants sniffing his newspaper
Which takes him quite away along
until the open green grass

And he’s off with joy bounding
Then stops to look back
OK, I am right there
Then it’s along the sea wall

Maybe jump down on the sea side
Oops maybe not let’s leave it for now
He spies a puppy good for a chase
And get chased back what a game

When we reach the slipway he watches
Does he want to windsurf does he wish
For a boat I know I do
Then the football pitch

In for a dribble makes the kids laugh
Yes i got to get in his groove
Makes it such fun

Unless he finds something that’s dead

But even when he stinks
He makes me laugh

Oh how he made me laugh

Published in The Lark


More paramedics…

I miss my daughter. She is in Oxford with her job. I hope she is as happy as she claims.

I miss watching videos in my bed, laughing with the dog as she roughhoused with him. I miss her news every day. God, I miss just setting eyes on her.

I called out paramedics in the wee hours yesterday. I was suffocating. No position relieved it. They came surprisingly quickly considering how busy they are, but the crew had been at the local hospital when they were dispatched.

They used ipratropium only which they are not meant to do, but it fixed me. I couldn’t believe the difference. I still feel better now. I wonder how long before yesterday ipratropium would have benefited me. And I would not have needed to feel I was suffocating so many times when I got myself into the recovery position to make it stop.

I am dying. There is no doubt. It is a long slow death. I enjoy my life mostly. I miss my daughter. It would be so much easier if she were here to smile at me every day.

I am loving my wanderings around the harbour. Finding the ancient woodland. I find healing.