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To His Corgi Mistress December 9, 2008

Posted by Alex Sawit in Stuff in General.
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By Alex Sawit

10 December 2008

 

Not long ago, I introduced Cyrano friends to our official wild boar hunter, Samu, a soft-spoken but self-confident Shiba-Inu who calls upon the comforts of our wine shop whenever he pleases (or at least whenever his humans deem it convenient).

This time, I’d like to call your attention to his officially designated girlfriend, Iona.

 

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Iona is a seven-year old Pembroke Corgi who lives with her humans in that barbecue paradise of the U.S. East Coast, North Carolina. By all trustworthy accounts, Iona possesses all the qualities that make her a compelling match for our Samu. Allow me to mention a few of them:

 

  • Iona has a nice orange-brown coat, as does Samu (in other words, they are color coordinated together).
  • Iona has short legs, which is appropriate since Samu is good at hugging the ground (in other words, when they’re on a date, he’ll be on his knees as they look into each other’s eyes while sharing a bowl of Pinot Noir and a plate of roast beef).
  • Iona sort of tried to take down a deer in the woods of North Carolina, which is cool since Samu has it in his pedigree to hunt for wild porkers in the forests of Japan (in other words, they’re a match as romantic hunting companions in keeping with the Greek archetypal love story of Artemis and Orion).
  • Iona is an “older woman,” which is fine since Samu probably digs that (in other words, they can take inspiration from the Demi Moore-Ashton Kutcher arrangement).

 

In other words, Iona and Samu are M.F.E.O. in the opinion of this writer. Never mind that she lives with her humans on the other side of the world separated by twelve time zones. True love can find a way.

Which brings me to today’s pressing matter. I just found out that Iona was taken to the vet for a distressing emergency procedure. On behalf of her boyfriend – who for all his remarkable intelligence still requires a human to set his thoughts to the written English language – I would like to convey his most heartfelt concern for his “Lady” as well as his wishes for her speedy recovery. Teeth extracted or not, Iona is still his girl.

So to comfort her, Sarah, please read to Iona the following poem of Andrew Marvell (my apologies to Marvell, but I’ve taken the liberty of altering the title of his poem just for this post, all for a very good cause). Given all that has yet to transpire between these two love birds… er, dogs, I thought it would make a good read. I hope it makes her day – and hopefully it makes her seize it, too. And make sure she understands it’s from her one and only Samu.

 

 

To His Corgi Mistress


Had we but world enough, and time,
This coyness, Lady, were no crime
We would sit down and think which way
To walk and pass our long love’s day.
Thou by the Indian Ganges’ side
Shouldst rubies find: I by the tide
Of Humber would complain. I would
Love you ten years before the Flood,
And you should, if you please, refuse
Till the conversion of the Jews.
My vegetable love should grow
Vaster than empires, and more slow;
An hundred years should go to praise
Thine eyes and on thy forehead gaze;
Two hundred to adore each breast,
But thirty thousand to the rest;
An age at least to every part,
And the last age should show your heart.
For, Lady, you deserve this state,
Nor would I love at lower rate.


But at my back I always hear
Time’s wingèd chariot hurrying near;
And yonder all before us lie
Deserts of vast eternity.
Thy beauty shall no more be found,
Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound
My echoing song: then worms shall try
That long preserved virginity,
And your quaint honour turn to dust,
And into ashes all my lust:
The grave’s a fine and private place,
But none, I think, do there embrace.


Now therefore, while the youthful hue
Sits on thy skin like morning dew,
And while thy willing soul transpires
At every pore with instant fires,
Now let us sport us while we may,
And now, like amorous birds of prey,
Rather at once our time devour
Than languish in his slow-chapt power.
Let us roll all our strength and all
Our sweetness up into one ball,
And tear our pleasures with rough strife
Thorough the iron gates of life:
Thus, though we cannot make our sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.

 

 

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Samu – The Wild Boar Hunter

 

 

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