Elizabeth Barrett, before she married Robert Browning, wrote a long poem to and about her beloved dog, Flush.
Flush was a cocker spaniel, and, if you read her poem, you will see that he was beloved indeed. It was almost a spiritual relationship. She would offer prayers while resting her hand on his head, with its gold ringlets. And so on.
I have to confess the poem was a bit much for me. Kind of like the Sonnets to the Portuguese, but to a dog. I had to drink water after I read it.
Three times Elizabeth paid a ransom to dognappers who took Flush. That is not a poem or in the poem. That is simply the truth.
I don't know if it was the same guy, taking the dog three times, or three different dognappers. I do know, or I'm pretty sure, that the dognappers were men. But that, while an interesting idea for me to suggest, is not the point here.
The point is that I do understand loving a dog. I loved our dog, Sweetiepie. And I despise anyone who would take someone's beloved dog and hold it for money. I will not get into the subject of kidnapping because I can hardly think of such things without becoming ill. I'm serious.
There is something else I thought of. After she married Robert Browning, what of Flush? Of that I know nothing. Maybe with a husband, she didn't need a dog. What do you think?
2 comments:
I am certain that poem would be too much for me, too. Love your dogs, people. That's great. But that love isn't the same as a mother's love for her own human offspring. Sorry. I just won't accept that. Perhaps I need to write a poem. It will be called "That Dog is not your Child. Or grandchild."
Write it. It needs to be said.
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