The Simonaic System

Simonaic System 

–noun Caninology .

a system created by Simon (and subsequently enabled by humans) in which the dog sees himself as the fixed center of the universe, with the humanly bodies moving about him.

Origin:

2010–present

We are Thankful!

...and thank you, dear readers, for visiting Simon Says...

This Much I Know

1. He who smiles first WINS. (...or she...really not a feminist here)
2. What goes around comes around.
3. "I'm sorry" and "I love you" are five little words we all should know...and use.
4. Kindness and compassion make the world go 'round.
5. Ignorance breeds intolerance; understanding breeds harmony.

What lessons has life taught you?

Material Girl Falls Victim

This isn’t the first time this has happened; I knew and accepted this reality when I brought Simon into my home. Simon is still a pup, a weimy pup, a pup who needs to chew and needs attention and needs to spend his abundant energy.

Simon also has a knee injury, which means he hasn’t been able to spend his energy chasing tennis balls for weeks. And so, Simon did what Simon does. He chewed. He chewed up a brand new willow pumpkin right before Halloween. I was okay with that. He chewed up my Guatemalan, hand-carved rooster I bought in Key West. I grit my teeth and accepted that. But yesterday…yesterday he chewed up my Winnie the Pooh script. My heart stopped. I melted into a puddle of shrieks and sobs and crawled around on the floor like a little child, picking up every precious giblet and scrap.

I sent Simon to his kennel. I sat and flattened out every salvageable page as best I could. I taped what could be taped. I paced with my stack of pitiful pages. I clutched them to my chest. I poured myself a Crown and coke and wept some more.

Before you judge me too harshly, please realize that I don’t always act like a child. But that script carried me back, back to my childhood. That script was MY script, my summer youth theater script, my first lead role script, my Rabbit script.

That script was my most precious childhood possession (next to my brown teddy bear and my snoopy). I don’t think of my childhood as being particularly happy; I was a sober child. But that script represented a truly happy memory, and I have always kept it tucked safely on a high bookshelf…until…until recently. Until photographing my first bicycle sucked me into reverie. Until I took down my script to look at it and finger through it’s pages and be carried away again. Until I placed it where I thought it would be safe ‘til going back downstairs to my library. I’m such a heartsick, heartbroken fool.

I'm ready for that knee to heal.

Furry Friends of the Feline Kind

Meet Zoey. I love this picture for two reasons, one...it captures her beauty...(isn't she elegant?),...two...it captures her spunk. Let me tell you, this kitty is one sassy bitch! Which is good, because she's an outdoor kitty, and I don't usually worry about her.

Zoey is the identical-twin of Zeus, who left this world a year-and-a-half ago. Zeus was "my kitty" and Zoey was "my daughter's"...well...as much as cats can ever truly "belong" to humans. But we have both been left behind, and so...Zoey and I have grown very close. She is, as far as I am concerned, my kitty now. And I honestly believe she claims me as her very own human.

Simon loves her too. And she???? Well...she tolerates him. :-)

A Bit of Verse to Tickle the Ribs

"The Revenant" by Billy Collins

I am the dog you put to sleep,
as you like to call the needle of oblivion,
come back to tell you this simple thing:
I never liked you--not one bit.

When I licked your face,
I thought of biting off your nose.
When I watched you toweling yourself dry,
I wanted to leap and unman you with a snap.

I resented the way you moved,
your lack of animal grace,
the way you would sit in a chair and eat,
a napkin on your lap, knife in your hand.

I would have run away,
but I was too weak, a trick you taught me
while I was learning to sit and heel,
and--greatest of insults--shake hands without a hand.

I admit the sight of the leash
would excite me
but only because it meant I was about
to smell things you had never touched.

You do not want to believe this,
but I have no reason to lie.
I hated the car, the rubber toys,
disliked your friends and, worse, your relatives.

The jingling of my tags drove me mad.
You always scratched me in the wrong place.
All I ever wanted from you
was food and fresh water in my metal bowls.

While you slept, I watched you breathe
as the moon rose in the sky.
It took all my strength
not to raise my head and howl.

Now I am free of the collar,
the yellow raincoat, monogrammed sweater,
the absurdity of your lawn,
and that is all you need to know about this place

except what you already supposed
and are glad it did not happen sooner--
that everyone here can read and write,
the dogs in poetry, the cats and the others in prose.

Year One Portrait