For CreatureTeacher

I had forgotten all about this Kipling work, Emma. I stumbled back over it while looking for something else and as I re-read it, smiled to myself thinking how you would enjoy it. How often have I seen you explain that the shining light in our dogs' lives is being able to please us.

The Supplication of the Black Aberdeen
Rudyard Kipling

I PRAY! My little body and whole span
Of years is Thine, my Owner and my Man.
For Thou hast made me?unto Thee I owe
This dim, distressed half-soul that hurts me so,
Compact of every crime, but, none the less,
Broken by knowledge of its naughtiness.
Put me not from Thy Life??tis all I know.
If Thou forsake me, whither shall I go?

Thine is the Voice with which my Day begins:
Thy Foot my refuge, even in my sins.
Thine Honour hurls me forth to testify
Against the Unclean and Wicked passing by.
(But when Thou callest they are of Thy Friends,
Who readier than I to make amends?)
I was Thy Deputy with high and low?
If Thou dismiss me, whither shall I go?

I have been driven forth on gross offence
That took no reckoning of my penitence,
And, in my desolation?faithless me!?
Have crept for comfort to a woman?s knee!
Now I return, self-drawn, to meet the just
Reward of Riot, Theft and Breach of Trust.
Put me not from Thy Life?though this is so.
If Thou forsake me, whither shall I go?

Into The Presence, flattening while I crawl?
From head to tail, I do confess it all.
Mine was the fault?deal me the stripes?but spare
The Pointed Finger which I cannot bear!
The Dreadful Tone in which my Name is named,
That sends me ?neath the sofa-frill ashamed!
(Yet, to be near Thee, I would face that woe.)
If Thou reject me, whither shall I go?

Can a gift turn Thee? I will bring mine all?
My Secret Bone, my Throwing-Stick, my Ball.
Or wouldst Thou sport? Then watch me hunt awhile,
Chasing, not after conies, but Thy Smile,
Content, as breathless on the turf I sit,
Thou shouldst deride my little legs and wit?
Ah! Keep me in Thy Life for a fool?s show!
If Thou deny me, whither shall I go! . . .

Is the Dark gone? The Light of Eyes restored?
The Countenance turned meward, O my Lord?
The Paw accepted, and?for all to see?
The Abject Sinner throned upon the Knee?
The Ears bewrung, and Muzzle scratched because
He is forgiven, and All is as It was?
Now am I in Thy Life, and since ?tis so?
That Cat awaits the Judgment. May I go?

I absolutely love Rudyard Kipling. Thanks for reminding me of that great poem. I've always liked it.

At last! Someone who knows that the Elephant's Child got came by his trunk because of his insatiable curiosity

...and because of the bi-coloured python rock snake who teased him about his mere-smear nose.

On the banks of the great grey-green Limpopo river.

Wasn't it the Great greasy grey-green Limpopo River, O Best Beloved?

Have you ever read the James Thurber poem about the little dog and the big dog?

Yes! It was greasy! I knew I was forgetting something, O Best Beloved.

I've read The 13 Clocks, but no, never the dog one. Have it handy?

I'm looking for it. It's Ogden Nash, not Thurber. I've got Thurber on the brain - been looking for a copy of his short story, "The Unicorn in the Garden."

Found it! The name is actually "Two Dogs Have I." This has always been one of my favorites. It's a perfect description of the relationship Mickey, the Toy Terrier I'd had since I was four and Purdue, my first German Shepherd had.

Two Dogs Have I

For years we've had a little dog,
Last year we acquired a big dog;
He wasn't big when we got him,
He was littler than the dog we had.
We thought our little dog would love him,
Would help him to become a trig dog,
But the new little dog got bigger,
And the old little dog got mad.

Now the big dog loves the little dog,
But the little dog hates the big dog,
The little dog is eleven years old,
And the big dog only one;
The little dog calls him Schweinhund,
The little dog calls him Pig-dog,
She grumbles broken curses
As she dreams in the August sun.

The big dog's teeth are terrible,
But he wouldn't bite the little dog;
The little dog wants to grind his bones,
But the little dog has no teeth;
The big dog is acrobatic,
The little dog is a brittle dog;
She leaps to grip his jugular,
And passes underneath.

The big dog clings to the little dog
Like glue and cement and mortar;
The little dog is his own true love;
But the big dog is to her
Like a scarlet rag to a Longhorn,
Or a suitcase to a porter;
The day he sat on the hornet
I distinctly heard her purr.

Well, how can you blame the little dog,
Who was once the household darling?
He romps like a young Adonis,
She droops like an old mustache;
No wonder she steals his corner,
No wonder she comes out snarling,
No wonder she calls him Cochon
And even Espèce de vache.

Yet once I wanted a sandwich,
Either caviar or cucumber,
When the sun had not yet risen
And the moon had not yet sank;
As I tiptoed through the hallway
The big dog lay in slumber,
And the little dog slept by the big dog,
And her head was on his flank.

Ogden Nash

I love that Kipling. That is sort of a tear jerker...so beautiful. And the second one is very cute. Where ever did you find that one? Thanks for sharing!

I've been a voracious reader of poetry since . . . well since before I could read, lol! Mom read all sorts to me when I was little and I just naturally had a taste for it. The Ogden Nash has been a particular favorite of mine ever since I stumbled across it after I'd had Purdue for a few months. It really was an EXACT description of Mickey and Purdue, lol!

And no, she wasn't named after Mickey Mouse - she was a far from that as you can get! She also, especially as she got older, fit the description in the James Thurber story, "The Dog Who Bit People." I used to joke that she was the Mickey that someone slipped you. She was actually named after a Welsh Corgi my Mom had when she was a girl. She used to tell me stories about her Mickey when I was little.

I have read the Elephant's Child outloud to Hyia so many times i have it memorized..i had a Disney Record when i was small with that story on one side..and the CAT THAT WALKED BY HIMSELF on the other..know that one by heart too..in fact i got a little upside down bat hanging in my window because of it! FAVORITES all the way..nobody does it like Kipling.

I love the way Kipling makes the words sing using so many different tricks - like shading with sound . . . 'great greasy grey-green Limpopo River' just summons images in your head while it sings its way across your tongue.

Remember Ricki Ticki Tavi?