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Garth Stein

There are so many books that bear re-reading.  To Kill a Mockingbird comes readily to mind since I am now re-reading (for the umpteenth time) that marvelous book.  Of course, The Virginian by Owen Wister (which I’ve not yet re-read); Victor Hugo’s Les Miserables;  Ernest Hemingway’s short stories – on and on.

An aside:  by the way, the Seguin Library has an audio of To Kill a Mockingbird narrated by Sissy Spacek that is absolutely perfect!

A book I certainly plan to re-read is Garth Stein’s The Art of Racing in the Rain.  I read that book when it was initially released and at least once since then.  For some reason, it is missing in my library.  I *think* I loaned it to someone . . . or perhaps sent to my daughter . . . or

At any rate, I’ve been in the mood to read that marvelous book again.

The Revenant – Billy Collins

I am the dog you put to sleep,
as you like to call the needle of oblivion,
come back to tell you this simple thing:
I never liked you–not one bit.

When I licked your face,
I thought of biting off your nose.
When I watched you toweling yourself dry,
I wanted to leap and unman you with a snap.

I resented the way you moved,
your lack of animal grace,
the way you would sit in a chair to eat,
a napkin on your lap, knife in your hand.

I would have run away,
but I was too weak, a trick you taught me
while I was learning to sit and heel,
and–greatest of insults–shake hands without a hand.

I admit the sight of the leash
would excite me
but only because it meant I was about
to smell things you had never touched.

You do not want to believe this,
but I have no reason to lie.
I hated the car, the rubber toys,
disliked your friends and, worse, your relatives.

The jingling of my tags drove me mad.
You always scratched me in the wrong place.
All I ever wanted from you
was food and fresh water in my metal bowls.

While you slept, I watched you breathe
as the moon rose in the sky.
It took all of my strength
not to raise my head and howl.

Now I am free of the collar,
the yellow raincoat, monogrammed sweater,
the absurdity of your lawn,
and that is all you need to know about this place

except what you already supposed
and are glad it did not happen sooner–

that everyone here can read and write,
the dogs in poetry, the cats and the others in prose.

The Dog Reincarnation Test

[my result:  A German Shepherd]

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About hopeseguin

Who am I? I'm still discovering just who I am, I suppose. A. Powell Davis writes that "Life is just a chance to grow a soul."

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