God Spelled Backwards
How a Border Collie, a Hare, and a Dead Rook Remind Me to Play, Create, and Listen
I Love My Dog
I love my dog. I know, I already said that. But I do.
I remember, as a boy, hearing a priest give a sermon. He said, “God spelled backwards is dog.” It stuck with me. And hey—dogs exist!
This morning, I took Paddy to the vet for his annual jabs and to have a claw clipped. He’d been chewing it again.
Fieldwork (the Joyful Kind)
Yesterday, we spent ages in the hill field near our place. I threw toys. He fetched them. Repeatedly.
There’s a song, Galileo’s Galleon, that I wrote with Robin Lawley. A small thing, a playful sketch. Not one we’d release. But it’s about how a dog like Paddy lifts us from the weight of human concerns and pulls us into pure play. Living in the now.
Paddy’s a smooth-haired Border Collie. His Maslow's hierarchy? It starts and ends with play. Food comes second. Cuddles a close third. But fun? That’s the real prize.
He drags me into a different reality—present, immediate, alive.
Lyrics in the Wind
On the hill field, I extended our walk. I was trying to tune into some new lyrics for a track that The Rayne, Andrea Patron, Zac Ware, and I have almost finished. It’s good. We know it. Others say so. But we’re still nudging it, trying to get the words just right.
While walking my God—I mean, dog—something clicked. The lyrics came. I recorded them on my phone.
At one point I looked up to see Paddy just sitting there, panting, waiting for me to snap out of it. Earlier, he’d taken off after a hare—the kind of full-throttle chase you don’t try to interrupt. He returned, wild-eyed and buzzing. The hare outran him. I was glad.
I’ll never understand people who shoot hares. Or foxes.
Rooks and Rodents
Meanwhile, the bird drama continues, with a new twist.
Yesterday, I saw what looked like a long-tailed, four-legged bird nibbling crumbs below the feeder. A rat. Casual as you like.
A gatecrasher arrives at the feast, a long-tailed, four-legged bird nibbling crumbs beneath the feeder: I smell a rat!
Last week, it was the rooks. Loud, bossy, relentless. This week, they’re keeping more to the fields. Fewer dawn-to-midnight rave parties in the old oak we call Hotel California.
The missus took Paddy walking the other day and found a dead rook beneath the electricity lines. It’s happened before—two birds touch at the wrong moment and get zapped. This time, just the one.
Apparently, it’s okay to hang up an actual dead rook to discourage the others. (Ethics checked!) So we did. So we don’t have to wait for the fake ones Amazon ships.
Closing Thought
There’s a lot going on out in that field. A lot to learn. A lot to let go of. Sometimes, songs are progressed. Sometimes, it’s just about the play.
And yes—I love my dog.
Happy days,
Joe
Joe’s acclaimed first memoir In My Gut, I Don’t Believe is available on Amazon in Kindle, Paperback, Hardback and Audible editions. His second memoir Saved by a Woman is available on Amazon in Kindle, Paperback, and Hardback editions.
Reminds me of a wee mouse I once watched trying to access one of my bird feeders. He was repeatedly thwarted by the smooth plastic sides of the feeder and kept falling several feet to the ground. He kept trying though. I was so impressed by his perseverance that I tied a little line between the feeder and the nearby fence. It worked a treat. 🤣
Nice one. I draw a line with a rat, though. Even David Attenborough doesn't like rats. Thanks for your comment. Happy days, Joe