Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.

It is said that given the option of being in the company of a dog or a human, Dania would invariably bid you goodbye and suggest you meet on another occasion. Common to the English-this Canisphilia is very much a charming if slightly disturbing trait entrenched in the English sensibility. A people born of reticence and understatement the dog affirms the ideal of what a relationship should be. For as Kipling states’ Buy a pup and your money will buy- Love unflinching that cannot lie-- Perfect passion and worship fed, by a kick in the ribs or a pat on the head. Like every person ever to have bought a dog-Dania suffers the initial if unwarranted investment-that will ultimately end in tears.

Of course like every sensualist this is overlooked and deferred-buried to the overwhelming joy the dog will bring. Lara aka lala and Daisy were central to this love affair- protagonists that played central roles in the twenty years that they lived. For each came with an endearing and loving quality almost anthromorphic in form, loving in shape. Lala the more dominant was fearless and feisty; cantankerous and opiniated –a sufferer of no fool. This maltese-shiatzu wasn’t you’re typical precious dog- she bucked the limitations of her gender-always for example peeing with one leg cocked. She was a master rhetorician-fluent in the language of whining to communicate whatever deed she wanted

The elder of the two dogs she played the superior to Daisy-a Springer Spaniel. Lala always reminded me of Martha Gelhorn the battle worn journalist and travel writer. Always a committed leftist (lol) forever championing the underclass and loving Dania. Daisy the sweetheart was the polar opposite to Lala; she was amiable and patient with the most trusting of nature. Intuitive and sensitive to the feelings of others she was almost absolute in her altruism. An epicurean by heart-she certainly loved the finer things in life. Foods, wines (lol), the gentle glow of the fireplace: Daisy was always at centre of any luxury

There is sorrow enough in the natural way
From men and women to fill our day;
And when we are certain of sorrow in store,
Why do we always arrange for more?
Brothers and sisters, I bid you beware
Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.

Buy a pup and your money will buy
Love unflinching that cannot lie--
Perfect passsion and worship fed
By a kick in the ribs or a pat on the head.
Nevertheless it is hardly fair
To risk your heart to a dog to tear.

When the fourteen years which Nature permits
Are closing in asthma, or tumour, or fits,
And the vet's unspoken prescription runs
To lethal chambers or loaded guns,
Then you will find--it's your own affair--
But ... you've given your heart to a dog to tear.

When the body that lived at your single will,
With its whimper of welcome, is stilled (how still!)
When the spirit that answered your every mood
Is gone--wherever it goes--for good,
You will discover how much you care,
And will give your heart to a dog to tear.

We've sorrow enough in the natural way,
When it comes to burying Christian clay.
Our loves are not given, but only lent,
At compound interest of cent per cent.
Though it is not always the case, I believe,
That the longer we've kept 'em, the more do we grieve:
For, when debts are payable, right or wrong,
A short-term loan is as bad as a long--
So why in--Heaven (before we are there)
Should we give our hearts to a dog to tear?