Liberated
from a pound
in southern Illinois
Sir Reginald was
rescued
from a death sentence
and driven north.
We could only guess
what had happened to
“our” sweet 16 lb terrier.
Had he been left alone?
Had he been free to roam
in farm country?
He misunderstood play.
We had to teach him
not to bite
(even though he was older than a puppy.)
And the leash seemed foreign to him.
Reggie barked ferociously
whenever we tried to fasten
his harness.
But oh, how he loved his walks!
Still, Sir Reginald barked
and barked
and barked
savagely ignoring
our coaxing, cajoling, and all attempts
to fasten him
(sometimes we even barked back).
Then we would hold him fast
and finally
Sir Reginald would allow himself
to be bound.
Year after year
Reggie growled at the harness.
Sometimes, his love of walks
drove him toward the dreaded yoke
until, waking up to it, he’d jump away
and resume his howling.
Sometimes entire months passed
while Reggie accepted the tether
without complaint. Perhaps
he’d changed! But then
he’d moan and grumble and bay again.
It’s been 13 years of luscious walks.
Thirteen years of watching Reggie
prance with delight
especially when the heat’s just right.
But still, he objects
to the harness
even after all these years.
Reggie will never understand why
I sometimes stop the leash –
stop him from chasing
the juicy rabbit
while traffic zooms around.
My ego is like Reggie
who likes to stay ahead of me
taking the lead –
imagining he’s in charge.
But today he seemed to revel
in our partnership –
the two of us connected
by the leash
walking
on this windy sunny day.
After all this time perhaps
we both are learning
to honor the tether.
To see the good in being yoked.
Connected.
The ego to the Self.
Perhaps we both are learning
to trust more and
grumble less.
Perhaps.
The Harness – a poem by Laura Lewis-Barr (c) Lewis-Barr 2025