A reader writes:
Quite by chance, I was at a friend’s beach house recently, picked out of the shelf a musty volume of Ogden Nash, and stumbled on this:On a Good Dog
O, my little pup ten years ago
was arrogant and spry,
Her backbone was a bended bow
for arrows in her eye.
Her step was proud, her bark was loud,
her nose was in the sky,
But she was ten years younger then,
And so, by God, was I.
Small birds on stilts along the beach
rose up with piping cry.
And as they rose beyond her reach
I thought to see her fly.
If natural law refused her wings,
that law she would defy,
for she could hear unheard-of things,
and so, at times, could I.
Ten years ago she split the air
to seize what she could spy;
Tonight she bumps against a chair,
betrayed by milky eye!
She seems to pant, Time up, time up!
My little dog must die,
And lie in dust with Hector's pup;
So, presently, must I.
We want to hear what you think about this article. Submit a letter to the editor or write to email@example.com.