Jackboy’s Lament
We define ourselves in movement,
in the uncertain light and forms
shuddering by: fences, the nameless
wave, odors, dark water.
Look at the hills, their lines stretched taut like
smiles, or voices torn from the earth.
Or the creek below us – how its mouth never closes
yet nothing emerges but a shadow
on the wind. Two questions arise,
leaving only the abandoned to consider.
In our solitude, only my self is missing.
“Jackboy’s Lament” made its first appearance here in October 2015. I started the poem about a dozen years ago, after a drive through the Texas hill country with Jackboy the cattledog, who was quite the philosopher and humorist. This is what emerged after several conversations and much reflection over his circumstances (abused, abandoned, rescued). Jack didn’t talk much, but he thought. Oh, how he thought.
It has been nearly three years. We still miss him.


A true companion animal – muse with 4 paws. (Long ago I had such, as feline.) Beautiful poem.
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He was a true companion, as are our two Chihuahuas. But Jackboy was special to me.
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I love the patten of his face. The philosophy of dogs would be so much easier to live by. Someone should write a book.
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Wouldn’t it, though? Not much guile there. Just companionship and laughter.
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Beautiful
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Thanks very much!
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Oh, gorgeous, philosophical boy! 😍 As Jackboy once devoted his very self to filling the cattle dog-sized need he perceived in you, the memory of and longing for that filling will now forever remain. I see, though, that this phenomenon has in a way become something to celebrate (as evidenced by this gorgeous testament!), and I definitely share your reverence on that count. ❤
I recognize that knowing look in his eyes. It is the same way my Sydney cattle dog regards me, unceasingly, with her earnest, plying vigilance and proximity (which sadly involves no cuddles, but I’ve learned to live with that 😉), trying to keep me aware and accountable in my every movement and breath. Of course, I realize I will never do her efforts justice…
Sydney turns 12 this month. How old was Jackboy when he went to dogey herding & squirrel chasing heaven?
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Jackboy, too, was not much for cuddling, preferring an aloof vigilance, except during goofy playtime. We’re not certain how old he was when he adopted us (probably a year, maybe a little more, but young), and we were fortunate to have him around for a dozen years.
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Robert, one of my all time favorites of yours – this stole my heart. Exquisite my friend.
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Thanks, Candice. Dogs have the capacity to bring out the best in us.
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what are the ‘two questions’?
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I suppose THAT is the question! On the drive that day, the questions were represented by two turkey vultures rising out of a dry creek bed…
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Hmm. Interesting where questions can arise from.
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Vultures always spark questions. Mostly elemental, but occasionally philosophical in nature.
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Like ‘when will the lightning cook my dinner?’ The bird who knows well the philosophy of empty bellies.
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Oh, there’s nothing quite like roadkill tartare!
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A beautiful poem, Bob. A dog like yours is a true gift from the gods. Sometimes I wish I had a dog like him.
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He was, indeed. We were fortunate that he adopted us.
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Adore this!
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Thank you, Vanessa.
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My pleasure!
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Our great animal loves: Perhaps long gone, but never forgotten and always missed. Lovely, Bob.
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Thanks, Cate. All of our departed dogs have been special.
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I don’t know what kind of dog Jackboy was. All of my West Texas cowboy friends had blue heelers. The dogs and the cowboys are cherished memories.
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He was a blue heeler, aka Australian cattle dog.
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A loved pet is often tough to move on from–their company is sorely missed.
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So true!
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This is really beautiful lean verse. Often less is more!
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Thanks very much. I agree – less is often more.
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Marvelous piece, simply marvelous
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Thanks very much!
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My pleasure, always
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Silence can fill in the blanks. (K)
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It definitely can.
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Such wise and wonderful friends, our dogs!! If only they could speak…
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So true!
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