The greatest love is a mother's; then a dog's; then a sweetheart's.
If I lived in a big enough house this is (one of) the breeds of dog I would like to own, it is of course an Irish Wolfhound. Like Finn, our much loved lurcher, they are very loyal and affectionate. Unfortunately I couldn't fit one into my wee cottage.
And talking of dogs, I promised you another favourite poem from the Mary Oliver book.
Here it is:
Percy Wakes Me
Percy wakes me and I am not ready...
Now he's eager for action: a walk, then breakfast....
He is sitting on the kitchen counter where he is not supposed to be.
How wonderful you are, I say. How clever, if you needed me, to wake me.
He thought he would hear a lecture and deeply his eyes begin to shine.
He tumbles onto the couch for more compliments.
He squirms and squeals; he has done something that he needed and now he hears that it's okay.
I scratch his ears, I turn him over and touch him everywhere. He is
wild with the okayness of it. Then we walk, then he has breakfast, and he is happy.
This is a poem about Percy.
This is a poem about more than Percy.
Think about it.