Second up we have Dog Years by Mo Gallaccio -
Dog Years
My young friend Finlay has a dog.
He did me a drawing-
Ella, Patterdale terrier, 74 years.
He tells me...she’s really seventy-seven but
he didn’t want to rub it out and spoil the picture
and she lives seven or maybe it’s eleven (?)
years to every one of his.
I put her portrait on my wall
and note we are the same age.
She looks very sprightly
ears cocked, tail held high
nose up, alert - present.
Time is so very fluid, Ella
don’t you find? An hour
can drag on a whole day,
yet months and years flash
past all in a blink and memory
is so fickle, moments from years ago
fixed, every detail clear
but what I read or ate or did
last week - a blur.
Words slip out of reach
names and faces come adrift
I do acknowledge folk, but who they are
and how we met’s a mystery.
I am become so grumpy Ella
I miss that little optimist, my younger self
filled with curiosity and wonder, sometimes
fearful, often not understanding
ut full of trust and an unshakeable
belief in justice. A clear eyed
seven-year old. Age is just a number
Ella, I’ll take a lead from you
trade in my life-lived years
banish this weary cynic
become child-like again.
I’m with you Ella - I choose
to be alert. I will be present.