26, December 2024 An Epic post-Christmas Poem

 
A Christmas Wish Epic from 1995
a year after the origination date of December 23, 1994
of
THE RAVEN:
Northwest Minnesota’s Original Art, History, & Humor Journal
 
A year has passed
since December 23rd
Snow underfoot,
loud crunches could be heard
As I walked to your porch
 in the dark that night
Fredrica, the guard dog
 laid waiting to the right

She leaped
from the shadows,
 white fangs agape
Christmas or not,
no strangers she’d take
No sales personnel
from the Avon Store
No Christmas
‘Round The World,
She couldn’t take it anymore

From ‘tweenst my eyes
a blur did I see
A loud growl,
a loud GRRR,
scared the shit outa me
I was too scared to run,
too old to fight
If I could’ve,
I would’ve
 long through the night.

We’d awrestled and rolled,
‘cross the snow,
down the bank
O’er the edge,
on the ice,
through a big hole we’d sank
‘Neathe the water
we’d fight,
n’er a breath
we’d take
Not her,
not me,
nor if our lives at stake

We’d awrestled to Roseau,
poppin’ up,
poppin’ down
Beaver dams,
log jams,
an’ switch backs
we’d round
Snarlin’ and bitin’,
bloody scum
would arise
Yowlin’ and growlin’,
pokin’ each other’s eyes

We’d ‘ave done it you know,
fought into the dawn
We’d rolled under cars
and across the lawn
We’d ‘ave wrecked Volkswagens
and snow-covered grass mowers
Kickin’ an’ clawin’
the other all o’er

Meaner and meaner,
on and on
we’d fight
On through the afternoon,
evenin’ and night
The names we’d grunt out.
“Bitch” was one of course
I heard her call me,
“You long-eared cousin of a horse!”

But I wasn’t there to fight
 this here dog
Though I was payin’
a late night visit
Thrustin’ my hand
 into a deep jacket pocket
I pulled out
a leftover dog biscuit

A serendipitous find
from an afternoon romp
With four of my dogs
 in the snow where we stomped
Not an inch of white stuff
 is there left around
For dogs,
me,
and
Bonny,
ran all over the ground

Biscuits are treats,
Bonny don’t like them much
The dogs and me
 like their crunchety-crunch
We ate them all day,
til not a doggone one left
The dogs were depressed;
me sadden’d, bereft

But of all the mistakes
 I’ve made in my life
That have caused me regret,
ill repute
and strife
That left-over dog biscuit
 alone in the dark
In my pocket it rested,
did a friendship it spark

Twixt this killer,
this beast,
This guard dog
named Fred
Who’d ‘ave
ripped out my throat
Ate my heart,
made me dead

And myself,
Wannaska Writer
Who
just wanted to say,
Merry Christmas
to all
On this 23rd day.