"It's National Dog Day, Finnegan."
"It should be National Corgi Day."
"Not much for diversity, are you?"
"Other dogs are ok. But we're special. Corgis are descended from wolves!"
"Um. I think all dogs are descendants of wolves."
He gave her The Look of Offense and retreated to the far side of the room where he curled up on his special blanket.
"Mean human. Penelope knows we're special. Ask her!" he grumbled.
She grinned. Oh, the ego of the corgi. She chuckled and let him sulk, knowing that the very second she rustled the bag of peanut butter cookies all would be forgiven. In the meantime, a poem:
General wolf rules for life by Clarissa Pinkola Estés, Ph.D. from "Women Who Run With the Wolves".
"Finnegan, I met the poet Daniel Ladinsky."
"Did he speak to you in rhyming couplets?"
"No. But he told me to learn my birthday poem."
Finnegan sat, stubby hind legs sticking straight out as Corgi legs do in a sit. He regarded her with all seriousness. She waited, almost knowing what he was about to ask. And he did.
"What the hell is a birthday poem and do I have one?"
"It is a poem published under the calendar day of one's birth. He published a book with a poem for each day. And yes, you do have one."
"Good. I hate being ignored. Why did he tell you to learn yours?"
"Because it has a message in it that I would find useful."
Finnegan stared. Humans were so silly, putting pencils to scraps of paper and writing words down. They should just know that they were like dogs, and dogs were born with poetry already filling them up to their noses. Beauty and truth residing in every scratch, every sniff, every gallumping run of joy across the beach. Each dog a written celebration of life. Why didn't humans know the same was true for them? For all living creatures? Curious.
"What's the line in my birthday poem that best describes me?" he asked.
She smiled and opened the book, smoothing the page. She read a moment, for it was a long poem, but then she laughed and shook her head in disbelief.
"Perfect," she murmured.
"So read me perfect."
"Love creates a home wherever it is. Love is really never in want. True love is always in a state of found."
Finnegan smiled his Corgi smile. That was him exactly. True love found. He stood and wiggled his round bottom. He trotted forward and pushed his handsome head between her shins, huffing a sigh of contentment.
"Woof you," his voice was muffled against her jeans. But she heard him. Oh, how she heard him.
She reached down, scratched his white ruff and felt the world steady beneath her feet. How had she gotten so lucky to have this little guy come into her heart?
"Because you knew me as soon as you saw me. You knew I was your home," he woofed, looking up at her with happy eyes.
"Woof you too," she whispered, "woof you big time, baby."
