tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8138115961972902942.post3882520825925627183..comments2024-03-27T21:31:56.674-04:00Comments on The Quotidian Kit: My Cat JeoffryKitti Carrikerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02673202543914324582noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8138115961972902942.post-71372548365821464672015-04-03T09:26:47.770-04:002015-04-03T09:26:47.770-04:00Thanks to my friend Marguerite for telling me abou...Thanks to my friend Marguerite for telling me about<br /><br />MY DOG PERCY by Mary Oliver<br /><br />For I will consider my dog Percy.<br /><br />For he was made small but brave of heart.<br /><br />For if he met another dog he would kiss her in kindness.<br /><br />For when he slept he snored only a little.<br /><br />For he could be silly and noble in the same moment.<br /><br />For when he spoke he remembered the trumpet and when he scratched he struck the floor like a drum.<br /><br />For he ate only the finest food and drank only the purest of water, yet he would nibble of the dead fish also.<br /><br />For he came to me impaired and therefore certain of short life, yet thoroughly rejoiced in each day.<br /><br />For he took his medicines without argument.<br /><br />For he played easily with the neighbor’s Bull Mastiff.<br /><br />For when he came upon mud he splashed through it.<br /><br />For he was an instrument for the children to learn benevolence upon.<br /><br />For he listened to poems as well as love-talk.<br /><br />For when he sniffed it was as if he were being pleased by every part of the world.<br /><br />For when he sickened he rallied as many times as he could.<br /><br />For he was a mixture of gravity and waggery.<br /><br />For we humans can seek self-destruction in ways he never dreamed of.<br /><br />For he took actions both cunning and reckless, yet refused always to offer himself to be admonished.<br /><br />For his sadness though without words was understandable.<br /><br />For there was nothing sweeter than his peace when at rest.<br /><br />For there was nothing brisker than his life when in motion.<br /><br />For he was of the tribe of Wolf.<br /><br />For when I went away he would watch for me at the window.<br /><br />For her loved me.<br /><br />For he suffered before I found him, and never forgot it.<br /><br />For he loved Anne.<br /><br />For when he lay down to enter sleep he did not argue about whether or not God made him.<br /><br />For he could fling himself upside down and laugh a true laugh.<br /><br />For he loved his friend Ricky.<br /><br />For he would dig holes in the sand and then let Ricky lie in them.<br /><br />For I often see his shape in the clouds and this is a continual blessing.<br /><br />http://maryoliverpoetry.tumblr.com/post/67039801226/for-i-will-consider-my-dog-percyKitti Carrikerhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02673202543914324582noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8138115961972902942.post-55876311333802838672015-01-19T16:38:19.844-05:002015-01-19T16:38:19.844-05:00WILD GRADITUDE by Edward Hirsch
Tonight when I kn...WILD GRADITUDE by Edward Hirsch<br /><br />Tonight when I knelt down next to our cat, Zooey,<br />And put my fingers into her clean cat’s mouth,<br />And rubbed her swollen belly that will never know kittens,<br />And watched her wriggle onto her side, pawing the air,<br />And listened to her solemn little squeals of delight,<br />I was thinking about the poet, Christopher Smart,<br />Who wanted to kneel down and pray without ceasing<br />In every one of the splintered London streets,<br /><br />And was locked away in the madhouse at St. Luke’s<br />With his sad religious mania, and his wild gratitude,<br />And his grave prayers for the other lunatics,<br />And his great love for his speckled cat, Jeoffry.<br />All day today—August 13, 1983—I remembered how<br />Christopher Smart blessed this same day in August, 1759,<br />For its calm bravery and ordinary good conscience.<br /><br />This was the day that he blessed the Postmaster General<br />“And all conveyancers of letters” for their warm humanity,<br />And the gardeners for their private benevolence<br />And intricate knowledge of the language of flowers,<br />And the milkmen for their universal human kindness.<br />This morning I understood that he loved to hear—<br />As I have heard—the soft clink of milk bottles<br />On the rickety stairs in the early morning,<br /><br />And how terrible it must have seemed<br />When even this small pleasure was denied him.<br />But it wasn’t until tonight when I knelt down<br />And slipped my hand into Zooey’s waggling mouth<br />That I remembered how he’d called Jeoffry “the servant<br />Of the Living God duly and daily serving Him,”<br />And for the first time understood what it meant.<br />Because it wasn’t until I saw my own cat<br /><br />Whine and roll over on her fluffy back<br />That I realized how gratefully he had watched<br />Jeoffry fetch and carry his wooden cork<br />Across the grass in the wet garden, patiently<br />Jumping over a high stick, calmly sharpening<br />His claws on the woodpile, rubbing his nose<br />Against the nose of another cat, stretching, or<br />Slowly stalking his traditional enemy, the mouse,<br />A rodent, “a creature of great personal valour,”<br />And then dallying so much that his enemy escaped.<br /><br />And only then did I understand<br />It is Jeoffry—and every creature like him—<br />Who can teach us how to praise—purring<br />In their own language,<br />Wreathing themselves in the living fire.<br /><br />http://www.edwardhirsch.com/poetry/wild-gratitude/Kitti Carrikerhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02673202543914324582noreply@blogger.com