why the dogs are happy


this is only conjecture
and postulation on my part
you understand

based mostly on casual observations
and occasional reflection
not real science
in the traditional sense

the dogs
of cromwell county
where i grew up
and where my cousin lives
to this very day
are a very happy lot


and this is my theory

they're happy because
first of all
they are just dogs
and they know no better

they know nothing
of cheats and war
and political schemes
of romance and broken hearts
of bankruptcy
or lawsuits
or childhood dreams
dashed to pieces
by the death of a loved one

being dogs
the world is a simple place
an often happy place
if one lives in cromwell county
and one's master is kind

being just dogs
and nothing more
they also love
the cold mountain air

especially in the early morning
when the sun shines bright
against deep blue skies
and soft pastel clouds

and they love to eat
dogs love to eat
so when food appears
in their dishes
they often leap and laugh
in yellow morning sunlight
by the long gray porch

i think they must also enjoy
for its own sake
the company of each other

often i've seen them
playfully running
and jumping like crazy foxes
straight into the air
playing endlessly
as they go here or there

human beings are not like that
we understand too much
and the knowing weighs heavy
on our hearts
on our minds

back in the city
where i live
daily commuting
passing by hundreds
or thousands
of human faces
on crowded sidewalks
i see mostly grim masks
of silence

morning skies here are gray
just as everything else is gray
and windows are shadows black

so also human hearts
here soon pale to gray
by the loss of laughter
and many other losses

forward each day
we force ourselves to move
millions of prisoners
pedestrians and cars
in the city

people making their way
to apartment or office
to work or play
or study or forced exercise
or clinical medication
in white rooms
amid white smocks

not much laughter
in the city
among our own kind
except by paid comics

or the patrons of drink houses
where ads for alcohol
promise a brief respite
a few moments rest
from the grim determination
to face another day

maybe even the chance
for a brief romance
but never love

no
i like it better
in faraway cromwell county
where the dogs leap and play
running and laughing all day

racing, testing, play fighting
eager to see the next pond
the next meadow or tree
(of course the trees)

silly dogs
always so happy
just to be alive
instead of grimly
determined
not to be beaten down
or consumed alive
by life itself
before one's time

before the evening comes
that final sigh
of endless relief
and rest of mindless sleep
until sunrise shouts
arise


©2006 Jim Sutton
all rights reserved