My Old Dog's Eyes
Updated: Apr 23
I was never a dog person but when I moved far away from friends and family in the U.K. to Buenos Aires in 2007 with my partner, I felt so alone.
We decided to get a puppy, and drove an hour out of the city to find our Golden Retriever. I was always told your puppy will choose you and that's exactly what Blondie (a.k.a Blooshie) did. A wobbling ball of fluffy gorgeousness, she ran straight into our arms. We took her back to our apartment in Palermo Chico, Buenos Aires, that very same day.
It took me a while to adjust to the tumbleweed of white hairs that constantly drifted across the floor. But once I did, I never looked back.
I finally realised the power of dog.
Two years later, we moved to Vondelpark, Amsterdam. They were the happiest of days. Blondie flew, via Paris, to Holland and arrived at our apartment, all alone, in the back of an articulated truck. We'd read that a small percentage of dogs die from the stress of long haul flights. So a reunion has never been so sweet.
Blondie Bloosh made me a better man and I'll be eternally grateful for the joy and strength she gave both me, my partner, our family and our friends.
Along her journey, she's even life-modelled for many school children over the years.
As she reaches the twilight of her years, I had to write a poem just for her. It's been a long time coming. I hope I did her love and joy justice.
And thank you to my one and only hero, Prince, for that one inspirational line that concludes the last couplet.
Update: Yesterday, on 18th November 2021, Blondie left us in body but not in spirit. She didn't get one last Spring to play in, as the poem hopes, but she will play in our hearts for all eternity. R.I.P our beloved Blondie x
My Old Dog’s Eyes
Do you know where the time has gone?
My dog’s eyes ask of me
beyond her cloudy cataracts
I wonder what she sees
Do you dog-dream in memories
of ancient puppy days?
A thousand sticks, a million licks
A zillion words of praise
Do you remember all the smiles
you painted on my face?
Our favourite walks in Amsterdam
Our secret, special place
Do you recall that old park bench?
You’d fetch and I would throw
Through daffodils, through summer lakes
Through fallen leaves, through snow
Do you know, with your weak back legs
as seconds slip away
through your blind eyes and deafened ears?
I see and hear each day
Do you know that your winter years
are here and here to stay?
Sometimes it snows in April though
Next spring, I hope we’ll play
My beautiful dog, Blondie, through the years