Words Like Locusts Flew From Her Fingers

Spencer

A woman named Lucy Heyman recently posted this tribute to her Bedlington Terrier, Spencer, on the Bedlington-L list. I think it’s really sweet and funny and she has given me permission to repost it here. Thanks, Lucy!

—–

Despite your aristocratic name and superb lineage, you do not have carte blanche around here. I have reseeded your excavations in the lawn and have forgiven you the book spines you have nibbled on the bottom shelf.

Yes, I know you don’t shed, but you must admit you collect. When you come in the house full of twigs, leaves, foxtails and sticks, are you trying to look like an Arizona Prickly Pear Cactus? And speaking of sticks, the day you ran off with the wooden stirrer from the can of paint I was using, I appreciated  the fact that you didn’t use the doggy door into the house but simply used your artistic ability on some plants brightening up the garden. There is something to be said for doggie graffiti.

I covered the vegetable boxes with chicken wire but somehow with your elegant nose, you managed to extract all the plastic plant markers. You made this growing season into a game of, “Name that plant.” It has added a note of adventure to the dinner table, you clever Bedlington.

However, today in the words of, was it John Donne, you have tried my soul. The dwarf apple tree I planted 4 years ago was finally going to bear. The first year it was too young to produce. The second year all the blossoms blew off in a wind storm. Last year the bees didn’t co-ordinate their appearance with the tree’s blooming schedule. But this year all the conditions were perfect and a dozen  Golden Delicious were ripening on its branches. Oh, joy!

What made you think you were an apple harvester? I thought you were playing with your tennis ball, but your ball didn’t bounce. Sadly seven immature apples lay at your feet. You knew this was big trouble way beyond trying to standoff a javelina or trapping a sparrow in one of the rose bushes. You hung your head as I hung mine looking at your wanton destruction. I placed the apples on the picnic table, and you followed me inside,

Then I heard an unusual noise and through the window saw a Ladder Back Woodpecker and his young son enjoying your harvest. Well, Carillon Winston Spencer Churchill, you have done it again turning disaster into triumph.

Come here and let me give you a hug.