Lone Dog

I came across a poem today. I found it in a collection of artwork and poetry to use with home schoolers. I may use it with my students.

Lone Dog

I'm a lean dog, a wild dog, and lone;

I'm a rough dog, a tough dog, hunting on my own;

I'm a bad dog, a mad dog, teasing silly sheep;

I love to sit and bay the moon, to keep fat souls from sleep.

I'll never be a lap dog, licking dirty feet,

A sleek dog, a meek dog, crying for my meat,

Not for me the fireside, the well-filled plate,

But shut the door, and sharp stone, and cuff and kick and hate.

Not for me the other dogs, running by my side,

Some have run a short while, but none of them would bide.

O mine is still the lone trail, the hard trail, the best,

Wide wind and wild stars, and hunger of the quest!

Irene Rutherford McLeod

So, I had just finished thinking to myself, that sounds a little like me, when I glanced at the questions for students. One of them asked, "Is it possible that the author is writing about herself?" Yes, I think so.

I got myself in a bit of hot water this week for challenging some women for running in a pack rather than thinking independently. I have always preferred being a "lone dog", particularly when it comes to debating an issue. And I have always been a bit of a loner. I spent a lot of my growing up years on long bike rides or up trees. In fact, these days, that is the hardest part of running with the pack I call my family. They want to be with me. Constantly. And sometimes--often--I find myself lonely for the university library. I really want to lose myself--alone-- for days on end, way back in the stacks among all the books no one's read for decades. It's truly a challenge--being present and also, somehow, meeting my need for "loneness".

The third stanza of the poem is the one that fits me best. The first reminds me of my Gigi and the second is a bit dark. I suppose it's meant to counter romantic notions of living on the wild side with a bit of stark reality.

Gotta' love poetry. There's nothing like it.