Do you ever have them?<\/p>\n
No reason in particular but lots of reasons piled together?<\/p>\n
Sometimes the best cure is a good cry, and today what finally pushed me over the edge was reading this blog post<\/a> about death of Audrey the dog.<\/p>\n Someone posted this poem in the comment section<\/p>\n
\nby Robinson Jeffers (1887-1962)<\/p>\n
I’ve changed my ways a little; I cannot now
\nRun with you in the evenings along the shore,
\nExcept in a kind of dream; and you,
\nIf you dream a moment,
\nYou see me there.<\/p>\n
So leave awhile the paw-marks on the front door
\nWhere I used to scratch to go out or in,
\nAnd you’d soon open; leave on the kitchen floor
\nThe marks of my drinking-pan.<\/p>\n
I cannot lie by your fire as I used to do
\nOn the warm stone,
\nNor at the foot of your bed; no,
\nAll the nights through I lie alone.<\/p>\n
But your kind thought has laid me less than six feet
\nOutside your window where firelight so often plays,
\nAnd where you sit to read\u201a
\nAnd I fear often grieving for me\u201a
\nEvery night your lamplight lies on my place.<\/p>\n
You, man and woman, live so long, it is hard
\nTo think of you ever dying.
\nA little dog would get tired, living so long.
\nI hope that when you are lying
\nUnder the ground like me your lives will appear
\nAs good and joyful as mine.<\/p>\n
No, dears, that’s too much hope:
\nYou are not so well cared for as I have been.
\nAnd never have known the passionate undivided
\nFidelities that I knew.
\nYour minds are perhaps too active, too many-sided…
\nBut to me you were true.<\/p>\n
You were never masters, but friends. I was your friend.
\nI loved you well, and was loved. Deep love endures
\nTo the end and far past the end. If this is my end,
\nI am not lonely. I am not afraid. I am still yours.<\/p>\n
So of course I sit bawling my eyes out, and the door-bell rings.\u00a0 My dogs go nuts.\u00a0 It’s the guy from 84 lumber.\u00a0 I open the door with my eyes all red and puffy- he looks at me kind of strange and hands me the hardie plank samples and asks if I can choose the color of the house.<\/p>\n
My time of self pity has ended.<\/p><\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Do you ever have them? No reason in particular but lots of reasons piled together? Sometimes the best cure is a good cry, and today what finally pushed me over the edge was reading this blog post about death of Audrey the dog. Someone posted this poem in the comment section The House Dog’s Grave by Robinson Jeffers (1887-1962) I’ve changed my ways a little; I cannot now Run with you in the evenings along the shore, Except in a kind of dream; and you, If you dream a moment, You see me there. So leave awhile the paw-marks on the front door Where I used to scratch to go out or in, And you’d soon open; leave on the kitchen floor The marks of my drinking-pan. I cannot lie by your fire as I used to do On the warm stone, Nor at the foot of your bed; no, All the nights through I lie alone. But your kind thought has laid me less than six feet Outside your window where firelight so often plays, And where you sit to read\u201a And I fear often grieving for me\u201a Every night your lamplight lies on my place. You, man and woman, live so long, it is hard To think of you ever dying. A little dog would get tired, living so long. I hope that when you are lying Under the ground like me your lives will appear As good and joyful as mine. No, dears, that’s too much hope: You are not so well cared for as I have been. And never have known the passionate undivided Fidelities that I knew. Your minds are perhaps too active, too many-sided… But to me you were true. You were never masters, but friends. I was your friend. I loved you well, and was loved. Deep love endures To the end and far past the end. If this is my end, I am not lonely. I am not afraid. I am still yours. So of course I sit bawling my eyes out, and the door-bell rings.\u00a0 My dogs go nuts.\u00a0 It’s the guy from 84 lumber.\u00a0 I open the door with my eyes all red and puffy- he looks at me kind of strange and hands me the hardie plank samples and asks if I can choose the color of the house. My time of self pity has ended.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[6],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-279","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-elisalou"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.elisalou.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/279","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.elisalou.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.elisalou.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.elisalou.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.elisalou.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=279"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.elisalou.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/279\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":21001,"href":"https:\/\/www.elisalou.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/279\/revisions\/21001"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.elisalou.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=279"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.elisalou.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=279"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.elisalou.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=279"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}