Do a quick internet search and you will find lots of sources saying that dogs sleep a lot. Anywhere from 8 to 12 hours for average adult dogs and more, even up to 18-20 hours a day, for puppies and older dogs, with a lot of variation among individual dogs depending on breed, temperament, and activity level. Our dog fits right into this expectation, sleeping off and on through the day and most of the night, though he can be ready to play or go for a hike on a moment’s notice.
He has two modes: ON, and OFF.
This is him:
And this is also him:
Today’s poem recognizes the wisdom in just taking it easy, getting some sleep–something dogs seem to have perfected.
The Dogs Have It Right
I understand the appeal of curling
into a small space, cushioned,
one that smells of home and prior self.
The comfort of a tail wrapped around.
Even the half sleep of a furry ovoid, one eye
peering above the fluff. Who’s to say this is wrong
or unproductive, or wasteful?
The sun comes up, goes down, the world
turns whether we like it or not
and anyway, we ought to like it
given that we like gravity pretty much
just the way it is. Wouldn’t it be better
for the whole planet full of people each
to ease into a corner, den down in the dark,
spend a good ten hours just sleeping?
Or if not, then each can remain vigilant,
one eye on the safety of one small place.
Nap time, but everyone, everywhere, all at once.
Settle bodies, and minds might follow.
Settle minds, and perhaps the world gets
a bit of breathing space. Why should this
be less worthy than the ongoing rush
to get more, do more, and prove oneself
immortal? The dogs know better.
Cats too, and also the small rodents
creeping into dens for winter,
and the fat bears cozying down,
and the wild horses dune sleeping,
and even the owls, adult owls anyway,
because they can sleep with their heads
erect, embodying their own ideal
state, their spirit position. Baby owls,
like the dogs, sleep chin down.
If we practiced, like the owlets, we too
might find our oneness. But we thrash,
toss, sleepwalk. Snore. We try
to be useful, even in dreams.
As many photos of dogs as I have on my phone,
you’d think there would be more dog-related poems appearing on this blog!
Some claim that the idiom a dog is a man’s best friend comes from a Missouri trial in 1870, but it was in print in the U. S. earlier than that. And apparently–though I can’t put my fingers on the exact source material at moment–Frederick the Great of Prussia (died 1786) coined the phrase, speaking about his Italian Greyhounds. He was also buried near his dogs, and apparently not near family or the other royal burial places.
There are a few dog-related poems on this site. Here are the links:
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