Apology — Summary

I apologize for finding this dog to shadow you even as you pace the attic from desk to window, you and he, a pair now, contemplating those tough computer programming issues at which dogs notoriously shine. He accompanies your every step. I’m sorry he curls into a protective C near the head of the stairs in case an intruder prowls through the rest of the house to find you; protects you in his guardian curl but fails to bark unless, of course, the intruder thinks to use the doorbell and then, I’m sorry I brought home this dog who joins the clamor of the clapper and dashes and woofs and raises the roof. I am sorry I chose this dog who walks with a loose leash by your side, calmer than a summer wind, calmer than the yogi, tail swinging, mouth in a big, wide laugh and you must walk and walk and walk him and he draws you outdoors in black, in wet. I am sorry this dog lures you from your work; this dog holds you close to home; this dog empties your pocketbook; this dog compels you to love him. I’m sorry.

Show the whole poemHide the poem

Learn Poems app

Try the Learn Poems app

Everything from the website trainer, and more: new exercises, voice recording and sharing, reminders, quick review.

On the surface, the speaker is apologizing for bringing home a dog. But the "apology" is really a list of the dog's charms in disguise. He follows you around the attic, guards the top of the stairs, barks at the doorbell, walks calmly beside you, and grins with his whole mouth. Each of these is presented as a fault, yet each one sounds like exactly what a person might want in a companion.

The joke works through the gap between what the speaker says and what she clearly means. The "I'm sorry" repeats like a refrain, getting less believable each time. Even the line about dogs "notoriously" shining at programming is gently teasing. By the end, the complaints, such as the dog pulling you from work, keeping you home, and emptying your pocketbook, build to the real confession: this dog "compels you to love him." The mood is warm, playful, and affectionate, with a little mock-guilt for fun.

Read also

More by Pamela Hobart Carter

All poems
ContemplativePamela Hobart Carter

Lines of Sight are Reversible

Expect when facing mirrors glimpses at infinities, sureness of self, in this breathing state, instead, discover bowed lattices shuttering future or past or whatever
AnxiousPamela Hobart Carter

Abby tells Liza

Abby tells Liza they must leave. They pack and run. Rain drizzles. Below the freeway Abby and Liza wander. Liza must pee. Abby tells Liza GO
ContemplativePamela Hobart Carter

Yearning

I do not want to be remembered for my urine. In this I differ from the chowchow and Welsh corgi