We Keep the DogJames AL MidgleyHe's a big grub-digging machine, leash on the miles of open space. We keep him for the trees he raises from night, the wood's midwife. We like the supple rubber of his eyes rolled up in pleading. And what a dustbin and what a terrier of dustbins! We keep the dog for the dripping ivy - or lead him through corridors of flowers: a spray of purple sage across the snout, colour-succulent slipper orchids, and him covered in field muck. We like the contrast of his dark plushness on our white carpets. We leave him in the garden awake and snuffling, go indoors to rest, the sofa sprung with rosecurls and needle sprigs, this dream of running in our sleep.
|