Dog Gone

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Dog Gone Page 13

by Carole Poustie


  ‘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

 

 

 


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