"Misse and Luttine, 1729" by Jean-Baptiste Oudry‘And Every Dog His Day’ by C.B. Anderson The Society February 17, 2023 Humor, Poetry 8 Comments . And Every Dog His Day There’s no such thing as dog-years. You were fooled By sentimental nincompoops who don’t Know how to count correctly, twits unschooled In logic or in basic facts who won’t Admit that they are misinformed: A year’s A year, no more, for any creature caught Inside of one. The bucketful of tears You’ll cry, despite the sappy lie you bought, Won’t taste the slightest bit less salty, when The last good-bye is spoken, just because You multiplied by seven. Good young men Have died whose total hours spent dozing was About the same an average dog expects In half as many days. To get a true Idea what a canine span projects To, count the years and then divide by two. With due respect to idle napping dogs, Their lifetimes are suspended while they sleep; They are, at best, imperfect analogues Of we who weep … and work to earn our keep. First published in Poemeleon (2010) . . C.B. Anderson was the longtime gardener for the PBS television series, The Victory Garden. Hundreds of his poems have appeared in scores of print and electronic journals out of North America, Great Britain, Ireland, Austria, Australia and India. His collection, Mortal Soup and the Blue Yonder was published in 2013 by White Violet Press. NOTE TO READERS: If you enjoyed this poem or other content, please consider making a donation to the Society of Classical Poets. The Society of Classical Poets does not endorse any views expressed in individual poems or commentary. 8 Responses Roy Eugene Peterson February 17, 2023 Such a poem challenges the reader to come to terms with their own logic, comparisons, and emotions. Still there may be some assuaging of loss when thinking about pet age. To be sure “The bucketful of tears…Won’t taste the slightest bit less salty…” Reply C.B. Anderson February 18, 2023 There you go, Roy. We should all be careful what we take for granted. Reply Cynthia Erlandson February 17, 2023 “A year’s / A year, no more, for any creature caught / Inside of one” is exceedingly clever. This is a fun, and even thought-provoking, poem. Reply C.B. Anderson February 18, 2023 I’m sure that you, Cynthia, of all people, should have, by now, been caught inside a year. Reply Brian A Yapko February 18, 2023 This is a fascinating poem, C.B., for its stark, unsentimental message delivered in a matter-of-fact tone which makes one almost forget that this is excellent poetry. It’s quite a feat. The rhyming and enjambment are fantastic (I especially like the rhyme of dog and analogue.) But even more fascinating… there’s a fearlessness to this work in which you not only shatter fantasies but invoke a much larger canvas of mortality with those those “good young men” who, before dying, have slept as much as an average dog’s lifespan. A sobering fact to contemplate — especially for us dog-lovers. This poem will never be featured on a Hallmark card. Reply C.B. Anderson February 18, 2023 I got nothin’ against dogs, but every one of them’s a dog. Some comparisons are naturally and simply sad. Reply Shaun C. Duncan February 18, 2023 The tone is vaguely playful while the content is like a bucket of ice water and your mastery of form is all the more impressive for its subtlety. You make it look so easy! Reply C.B. Anderson February 18, 2023 It is easy, but even the easy is hard. I’m clinging on to form as best I can, and I’m not trying to be subtle about it. Reply Leave a Reply Cancel ReplyYour email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Δ This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.
Roy Eugene Peterson February 17, 2023 Such a poem challenges the reader to come to terms with their own logic, comparisons, and emotions. Still there may be some assuaging of loss when thinking about pet age. To be sure “The bucketful of tears…Won’t taste the slightest bit less salty…” Reply
C.B. Anderson February 18, 2023 There you go, Roy. We should all be careful what we take for granted. Reply
Cynthia Erlandson February 17, 2023 “A year’s / A year, no more, for any creature caught / Inside of one” is exceedingly clever. This is a fun, and even thought-provoking, poem. Reply
C.B. Anderson February 18, 2023 I’m sure that you, Cynthia, of all people, should have, by now, been caught inside a year. Reply
Brian A Yapko February 18, 2023 This is a fascinating poem, C.B., for its stark, unsentimental message delivered in a matter-of-fact tone which makes one almost forget that this is excellent poetry. It’s quite a feat. The rhyming and enjambment are fantastic (I especially like the rhyme of dog and analogue.) But even more fascinating… there’s a fearlessness to this work in which you not only shatter fantasies but invoke a much larger canvas of mortality with those those “good young men” who, before dying, have slept as much as an average dog’s lifespan. A sobering fact to contemplate — especially for us dog-lovers. This poem will never be featured on a Hallmark card. Reply
C.B. Anderson February 18, 2023 I got nothin’ against dogs, but every one of them’s a dog. Some comparisons are naturally and simply sad. Reply
Shaun C. Duncan February 18, 2023 The tone is vaguely playful while the content is like a bucket of ice water and your mastery of form is all the more impressive for its subtlety. You make it look so easy! Reply
C.B. Anderson February 18, 2023 It is easy, but even the easy is hard. I’m clinging on to form as best I can, and I’m not trying to be subtle about it. Reply