I heard about Laika, the first dog in space, many years ago when I was a child; but on a recent visit to The Museum of Jurassic Technology in Culver City, CA, I learned more about the early space programs in the USSR and the USA and the (mis)treatment of animals chosen for experimental flights. These animals are lovingly portrayed in portraits on the museum’s third floor.
I don’t think I’ve ever written an elegy for my own beloved dog, gone many years now. But I felt moved to write this one. We’re in the All Souls Day period; I don’t know whether dogs have souls, or whether people do, but it seems a good time to do some remembering.
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Dog in Space
Constrained while trained, you kept your hardworking heart, your trusting lack of expectations. If you knew you were to die it was no different from the street except instead of death from city’s cold it was due to module’s heat. Re-entry sent you everywhere, cosmically dispersed. Of all the objects and beings our kind has pitched into outer space you, Laika, are most beautiful for your willingness.
The past week gave me riches galore; though I am somewhat poorer in the pocket for it, my cup runneth over in about every other way. It’s true that often, lately, I’ve felt that I am living in “interesting times” that are all too much and too awful to contemplate for long. Then again, I could have been alive (possibly quite briefly!) during Boccaccio’s time and weathering the bubonic plague. Thanks to The Decameron, readers later in history have been able to get a picture of what people were thinking about and imagining–or trying to escape–when things were truly terrible all around. And while I’m not pollyanna-ish about the present, I do feel grateful that I live during an era when travel to distant places is possible and rather speedy, that books are readily available, and that some of the wealthy people of the not-too-distant past decided that philanthropy included funding libraries, gardens, and museums for the average citizen to visit and enjoy. Current billionaires, please take note!
What the week entailed was a trip to Los Angeles to visit my eldest child and, while there, to spend a morning at the AWP conference book fair. Riches indeed! I “packed light” to be sure I had space in my carry-on for poetry books, which thankfully tend to be slim paperback volumes. I bought almost 20 books, I confess. So I came home weighted with literary riches, and while at the convention managed to connect (however briefly) with numerous poet colleagues. A shout-out here to Lesley Wheeler, whose book I had to purchase online because Mycocosmic had sold out! Congratulations, and I cannot wait to read it.
My days in LA were limited to four, but my son had curated a things-Mom-would-like-to-do list that included Mom’s necessary down time. It’s terrific to have offspring who are now old enough to respect my limits. [They have not always been so accommodating.]
The list included several lovely meals out, a full day at Huntington Gardens and Library, a day trip up to Santa Barbara, a visit to LACMA to get an “art fix” for me and for my son’s best beloved, who loves art and architecture, and a visit to the amazing Museum of Jurassic Technology which, as far as I am concerned, is basically a series of amazing poetry prompts. I cannot possibly explain it; and the museum’s website is purposely a bit obscure and limited, compared to the immersive experience of going to the place in person. I am still thinking about it and will be for weeks.
Pond at Huntington’s Chinese gardens
The barrel cacti at Huntington
While photo ops abound at the gardens, no photos are permitted in the Museum of Jurassic Technology; I will lead you to the website and just keep you guessing. But among the riches of the last week are germs of new poem drafts. We shall see what emerges.
Four+ days away, and I returned to spring in eastern PA: narcissus, magnolias, glory-of-the-snow, squill, bloodroot, forsythia, ornamental plum. Even more richness. Gratitude for the glory.
ann e michael 