Category Archives: Random Bits and Pieces

The Passing of Thistle–A Poem by Peter Davison

scotty

This is our first summer without a dog.
Fifteen years of disgraces in the night
(tattered screen doors, overtuned garbage pails,
unexpected puddles on the guestroom bed,
and other misbehaviors) have ended at last.
She had a way of posing in the landscape,
arranging herself against a screen of trees,
upon a lawn or on an outdoor deck
so as to bring out the hero in photographers
who could focus on the challenge of her darkness.
When on the move she carried less distinction:
a scottie, long in the barrel, short of leg,
she trotted country roads like city sidewalks,
so long as a glance behind her could confirm
the support of the authority that gave her hers.
Absent such authority, she panicked:
could be found, after a search, hysterically
galloping somewhere in the wrong direction
if we returned from shopping or the movies
through a region she had not known long enough to own.
On her home turf she brooked no trespassing,
at least by motorcycles, dogs, or horses,
though she’d roll over basely for human intruders.
The children who had grown up while she watched
were patient, watching her as age declined
from sleepiness to blindness, deafness and
incontinence. Before her last collapse
she lived her life entirely through the nose
and sense of touch. And as they watched her sleep
they saw their childhoods disappearing with her
and by so much ceased a little to be children.

I who had shared, in my two-legged way,
in what I could grasp of her doggy memories,
knew we had lived through all the same affections,
felt the same losses, searched through an empty house
for someone who would never be returning,
brooded on sights and voices that had vanished.
Perhaps she had a way of understanding
our loss that she could never share with me,
but now our past belongs to me alone,
now that she’s gone, and no one else remembers
the weekends that we spent in the house together
letting each other in and out of doors.

Copyright © 1989 by Peter Davison. All rights reserved. As published in The Poems of Peter Davison (Knopf, 1995). 

Originally published in The Atlantic Monthly, September 1989. 
 

Sunday Probability Puzzler

The Sock Drawer obama soxProbabilities, likelihoods, odds ratios, etc. All of these things are important when deciding on public health and medical interventions. In light of this, we present you with our first probability puzzler.

You have a sock drawer with red socks and white socks. You want the probability of drawing two red socks, in the dark, to be 1/2. What is the minimum number of white and red socks in the drawer such that the probability is 0.50?

No cheating. Show your work and explain. Winner gets to pick the next 60s dish.  redsox

I’d like to write a post with my baby tonight, but. . .

it’s too darn hot.

(High temperature, 100 degrees Fahrenheit, new record)

Ann Miller, from the 1953  (not the ’60s?–so sue me!) MGM version of Kiss Me Kate.