31 August 2016


Reflecting that me ol’ mate Podge might be lost some 
where on the farm had me ruminating a bit more than 
I’m really capable of - he didn’t accompany me home 
at the end of our morning stroll; I assumed he’d found 
something interesting worth investigating - he’s a dog 
after all - and there’re fascinating things out there; but 
without giving away what they were, or where he was 
by usual frenzied barking, meant I hadn’t a clue, and 

That lead to wondering whether I need do something 
more than engage in these involuntary and accented 
glances at th’ lower hill track he usually comes home 
along; as nothing came in view while hanging out the 
washing I fix on a decision - we’ll crank up th’ mower 
and putter down to the Creek, innocent like, not in a 

Fractious or concerned manner - as it’d let th’ cat out 
of th’ bag; and so we saunter off, down to the garage 
where the ride-on mower hangs out, and something’s 
amiss - a large-as-life copy of yrs truly’s basking in th’ 
sun outside the spot he calls his office - his favourite 
hiding place; thus contemplation ends - & life without

Him isn’t introspectively on this day’s menu 
@17 May 2016, I. D. Carswell