A map of journeys taken spanning 3-9-40
deeply etched in skin as inkless tattoos
you have them

In whorls broken or spidery mazes
a multitude proofs of love conceived
you bear them

Unsightly yet harmless save to ego
no healing salve or lotion known
abhor them

For nothing else mars the binding
the circling of four
adore them

Stretch marks the spot.

Posted in: Reflectcelfer | Comments(0) | July 2007

This isn’t about chess or war.

Gambit was my brother’s Golden Retriever. He was eight years old when he passed away yesterday. We’ve lost Gambit.

At Bark Avenue, a pet accessory store in Eastwood my brother and his wife, and my wife Mallotte put up over a year ago, this light-tan-orange-hued hunk of a dog would sit or lie by the store’s glass door and nonchalantly attract attention. He drew people in, especially children. Those who were shy or wary at first would soon vie with the other kids for a chance to pet him or have a picture taken with him.

He was a magnificent specimen, muy guapo y simpatico, Piolo Pascual in canine form, so much so that several owners of female Goldens wanted him for stud services. (Uhmm, to be clear, it’s Gambit, not Piolo, they wanted for stud services, and for their pets, not for themselves, ok?) Like a true gentleman, Gambit always declined (with much regret?), because all that “servicing” would have aggravated his chronic bad back condition. (As for Piolo, I wouldn’t know. If he has a bad back, I mean.)

Gambit had just one unwelcome habit. He expected kids to “share” their favorite toys, particularly if it was a cute plush thing-y. Given the chance, he’d snatch it away from the unsuspecting child, and get scolded by my brother for it.

Save for that single weakness, Gambit showed a thousand times over why Goldens deserve their well-known reputation for being amiable. He accepted the fuss about him made by friends and strangers alike, even when he was becoming exhausted from reciprocating the affection showered on him. Late last year, he suffered a skin infection on the top of his head from - get this - “overpetting” (something I never thought possible) which left a small bald spot, so he stayed home for a couple of weeks to let it heal and grow the fur back. After that, he had to “return to work,” as the shop’s regulars missed him badly. He had become so popular that people who had only heard of Gambit would drop by just so they could see him, the handsome lovable icon of Bark Avenue.

Our truly golden pet bade us farewell yesterday. My brother packed a tennis ball beside him. They say all dogs go to heaven, where they gambol and run around unleashed. If a cherub isn’t careful, Gambit might just sneak up and snatch the little angel’s plush toy harp away.

Posted in: Reflectcelfer | Comments(0) | July 2007