‘Do you reckon your Grandpa’s the ghost?’ said Brody, finally.
‘I’m pretty sure he is,’ I said. ‘Why?’
‘I hope he says some of his poems to my mum. She liked poetry, too.’
It took ages to walk back. There was no way Brody could climb over Nelly Arnott’s fence with his crutches, so we took the long route. I’d convinced him to help me gut the fish. We’d get Gran to cook some for breakfast. Lucky wasn’t going to take off with it this time. I’d made sure of that. He was securely on the lead.
We turned the corner into Gran’s street, to see a car parked in her driveway and someone standing at the front gate. The person had their arm in a sling.
Mum!
Lucky spotted Mum, too, and nearly yanked my arm off as he tried to bolt up the road. The sudden jerk made me drop the bucket, and the fish slithered out onto the footpath. There was no stopping to put it back. Lucky was bounding towards Mum and pulling me along behind him.
‘Don’t let it get away!’ I yelled back at Brody.
Mum had the biggest smile on her face. ‘Well, hello, Ish. Hello, Lucky.’
‘Mum! You’re a day early.’
‘Thought I’d surprise you.’
‘It’s so great you’re back!’
She opened her arms. ‘Did I miss anything?’
Ish’s Poetry Journal
Dear Ish,
A place for your poems
Poetry - the best words in the best order
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Love Grandpa
* * *
Photo
Sitting on our log
by the river
my Grandpa, my dog
and me
not moving
not talking
just fishing
* * *
Surprise before bedtime
It’s what dogs do
bury bones
they can’t help it
Molly is screaming
her head off
it must have happened again
she thinks it was me
but I’ve seen him do it
Lucky buries his bones
under her pillow
sometimes the bone
is a dead bird
full of maggots
or my dirty jocks
Mum’s gardening shoe
or a muddy footy sock
I wonder what it is
This time?
* * *
Lucky
Just me and Dad
in the bush
no houses for miles
watching the sunset
by a river
something limps out
from behind a log
it’s a puppy
about six months old
same number
as my boy years
I could count his ribs
if I wanted
he’s lucky we found him
says Dad
yes
I say
he’s Lucky
* * *
A Bad Bite
Lucky lies on the vet’s table
he’s breathing
like a steam train
puff puff puff puff
I pat his damp brown fur
with long slow strokes
an hour ago
we were building a campfire
the tiger snake was still
in its hiding place
* * *
A Fight
Mum and Dad are in the kitchen
shouting
I’m under the pear tree
I don’t want to hear the words
neither does Lucky
he’s got his head on my knee
his ears down
* * *
Afternoon Tea
I arrive home from school
to a cinnamon smell –
Mum’s in the kitchen
going nuts
Lucky’s in the corner
ears flat
tail between his legs
Mum’s best plate
is in pieces
on the floor
and there’s no sign
of the muffins
* * *
Writer Dog
This is a true story
well - sort of
I leave the computer on
when we go to the shops
Mum, Molly and me
pile into the car
and leave Lucky behind
when we get back
there’s a message
on the screen
ddddddddddddooogggggggsssssssrrrrrrrrrrrrrooooooooollllllllllll
* * *
Old Drippy Nose
I’ve been lumped with a teacher called Beech
Whose voice makes a horrible screech
She looks like a witch
And casts spells with a twitch
She’s so ugly, she gives me the creeps!
* * *
He’s Leaving
I want to block out the sound
put my hands over my ears
so I can’t hear
the beep beep beep
of the removalist truck
reversing down our drive
I sit on the floor
in the empty spot
where he used to rock
in his chair
with his feet up
I throw my arms
around Lucky’s neck
bury my face in his fur
and rock and rock and rock
* * *
Unexpected Delivery
It’s the man who delivered our new freezer on Friday
standing at our front door
he’s holding my dog in his arms
Lucky tries to wag his tail
it only does one flick
mum is crying
dad is calling the vet
today is Tuesday
no one saw Lucky climb in
that van could have been
a coffin
* * *
Together
In the hammock with Lucky
swinging
I tell him funny stories
he’s looking at me
twisting his head
from side to side
one ear up
and one down
my dog’s funnier than
my best joke
* * *
Picnic Lunch
We’re at the park
Lucky and me
I’m teaching him
to walk without his lead
some people are
on a rug in the sun
a boy has a remote control plane
it whizzes over my head
and I watch for a minute
then there’s a scream
the people on the rug
are yelling
and chasing after Lucky
he runs past
with their whole chicken
* * *
A Dog’s Life
Lucky
do you think it’s unfair
you don’t get to
go to the movies
eat chocolate
(except when you stole
Molly’s Easter egg
with the smarties inside)
drive a car
sit up at the table
sleep under a doona
tell people what to do
visit Mr Ironclad anytime
play computer games
read books
be in a footy team
go for a walk whenever you like
give humans treats if they’re good?
Life must suck
for a dog
* * *
In trouble
It’s a silly idea
to give my old teddy
a haircut with
Dad’s electric shave
but I can’t stop my
self
the whirr
of blades spinning fast
the smoky smell of
blades jammed with fur
Lucky and me
keeping it all a secret
* * *
Award Ceremony
I’m in the front row
with my family
Mum, Dad, Gran, Molly and Lucky
a man makes a speech
about dogs who are brave
and clever
like Lucky
soon I will walk him
onto the stage
the boy who pushed Gran over
and stole her handbag
never had a chance
* * *
My name
You’ve got a stupid name
my sister raves
it’s not even short for anything
Ish, Ish stinks like a fish
come on
come and fight! Molly lifts the stick
I step back
Lucky growls
bares his teeth
you always hide behind
that stupid dog
* * *
Hand Knitted
We’re helping Gran with the washing
I’m only eight and I can’t reach the line
so I hold the pegs
Gran asks Molly about the jumper
the one she knitted all Autumn
the one that Molly told me
is scratchy and horrible
Molly tells Gran a fib
it fell out of the bus window
on the way home
from the shops
I know where it is
so does my digger dog
he drops it at Gran’s feet
all covered in dirt
* * *
Over he Goes
Lucky’s taking a run at the fence
the bang of Mr Ironclad’s back door
clicks a switch
in my dog’s brain
he scrambles up the cross beams
balances on the top
and over he goes
Mr Ironclad
doesn’t mind at all
* * *
My Dog Can sing
Seven candles
burn bright on my cake
Mum, Dad, Molly and Lucky
yes Lucky!
sing happy birthday to me
for the first time
he howls it in tune
with the song
(but only ever for
happy birthday)
* * *
Tuned in
I think my dog’s psychic
or is it his supersonic hearing?
he has a thing going
with Gran’s next door neighbour
how do I know Mr Ironclad
is five minutes away in his car?
Lucky is running
backwards and forwards
between the front
and back doors
barking the cups
off their saucers
* * *
Tipsy
Lucky is going nuts
the rubbish truck
is just outside
my crazy dog barks
and runs around in circles
gets so dizzy
you’d think he’d nicked
a swig or two
of Dad’s gin
* * *
Strange
First it’s Molly’s new scarf
then Mum’s calculator
the gas bill, the tea cosy
my watch and Mum’s red beret
all missing for weeks
when we rearrange the lounge room
for my birthday sleepover
we find them
(and five socks)
in a pile behind the couch
my dog thinks he’s a bowerbird!
* * *
Lap Dog
My dog
does
a
curious thing
he only
drinks
from
his bowl
lying
down
* * *
Winning Goal
My dog would make
a great full forward
he’s on to the ball
before it hits the ground
Once
my dad was a hero
for the Stoneybrook Tigers
he kicked with
his back to the goal
dropped the ball
onto his foot
and it sailed
over his head
like a banana
* * *
Dad’s Weekend
Mum’s driving to
Dad’s new house
with Lucky and me
in the back seat
Mum asks a question
but I don’t answer
then we drive
the whole way
not talking
she gives me a kiss
at his front gate
and Lucky a pat
see you on Sunday
she says
yep I say
* * *
Something to chew on
Mum opens the front door
Molly goes ballistic
Lucky hides under my bed
then I see them
lots of page numbers
on the floor
he’s been busy
Molly’s book
is an Aussie Bite!
Acknowledgements
Dog Gone began its journey to publication over five years ago. There are so many people who have contributed their insights and time along the way, that I’m sure to have forgotten to thank someone. If it’s you, and you’ve trawled through this list to no avail, my heartfelt apology.
Firstly, as recipient of the 2009 BPA Print Group – Box Hill Institute Publication Assistance Award, a big thank you for the generous contributions of $1000 and $2000, respectively, which helped make the publication of this book possible.
The following are all my wonderful readers who cast their collective critical eye over all or parts of my manuscript in its various stages of development. Thanks to: Ronald Margetts, Hannah Poustie, Valda Galens, Merrilyn Velcek, Bryce Hosken, Marlene Marburg, Stephen Morgan, Caroline St Ruth, Robyn Blythe, Cheryl Poustie, Helen Taylor, Glenis Rice, David Godkin (who showed me a real well!), Nicki Reed, Year Six class of 2006 at North Ringwood Primary School, and children from Years Four to Six between 2007 to 2009 at Rangeview Primary School.
Thank you to Elly Varrenti and the staff and students of Box Hill TAFE for all your support, encouragement, teaching and fantastic workshopping.
To these people, who contributed their talents to the cover – from its beginning as a mock-up for a TAFE assessment to the final design – Andrew McLean, Les Thomas, Jenny Kerr, Jean Lyons, Brendan Green, Audrey Ryan, Digger the dog, Gordon Thompson, Lucienne Noontil, Ann Haddon, Ann James, Helen Boettcher, and Emily and Stephanie Cherry.
Special thanks go to Fiona Trembath for the time she has put into Dog Gone, for her encouragement and wise suggestions to sharpen the text. To Liz Corbett (Elizabeth Jane) thank you for your keen insights during the editing process and for some artful wordings. To Earl Livings, poet extraordinaire, thank you for pointing out it’s the little things that count. To Catherine Bateson, who mentored me through 2009, a huge thank you for teaching me the art of revision.
To Euan Mitchell, publisher, editor, encourager and driving force behind Dog Gone from its inception, enormous thanks for your passionate belief in this project and the time you have invested in every aspect of it. And for teaching me that a plot should not rely on a coincidence!
And to Samuel and Hannah, thanks for being patient and creative sounding boards and not complaining when your mother forgot to cook the dinner.
Finally, to Rhonda Hosken, my first reader and all-time supporter, the biggest
thank you of all.
carolepoustie.com.au
Dog Gone Page 13
