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By Sol Park
Brooklyn Daily
Author Francesco Marciuliano has helped cats speak their poetic minds in “I Could Pee On This and Other Poems By Cats.”
With his latest book, “I Could Chew On This,” the author is publishing some of the best works by canine lyricists from an “unprecedented — and unaccredited — writing program,” such as “I Lose My Mind When You Leave the House,” and “I Dropped A Ball.” Marciuliano is inviting humans and dogs to a reading in Dumbo on Aug. 28.
With Marciuliano’s help, The Paper checked in with a real Brooklyn dog:
Sol Park: What do you think is a city dog’s greatest fear is? Greatest joy?
A dog: A city dog’s greatest fear is that their person completely misjudged their size in relation to their apartment. After all, no giant Mastiff wants to enter his new forever home and find only so much space for him to walk in a tight circle and sleep.
A city dog’s greatest joy is that first day with their new family — and every day after that. Oh, and when someone rings the doorbell, because there is always the chance that the person at the door may have not sufficiently cleaned his or her face after eating.
SP: What kind of improvements might a dog suggest to the next mayor?
AD: For years, dogs have been trying to make mayors aware of their needs only to be met with such responses as “Who’s a good doggy?” “Who’s a good, good doggy?” And “No! That is not how we greet people here! ” So instead dogs have taken to forming their own community action groups to make certain there is always something muddy and rancid to roll in.
Also, they’re creating their own food co-ops so dogs can enjoy the finest that can be found in overturned trash cans. And they’re starting their own political campaigns with posters featuring a photo of a dog and the slogan “Won’t walk off in mid-press conference like a cat.”
SP: Do you know any dog writers who are planning to publish the great American novel?
AD: Despite their usual open nature, dogs can be very secretive when it comes to their book pitches. You can be running around in the park with them, wrestling with them, getting licked by them. But the moment you ask, “So, how’s that historical fiction novel you’re working on about the two incompatible samurais who run a B&B going?” and suddenly the dog will get very quiet. He will avoid your gaze. He will drop the tennis ball from his mouth. He will say in a very quiet but clearly very aggravated tone that he shared that idea with you in private and here you are yelling it out at the dog park where you just know that thieving schnauzer who stole his idea about “ ‘The Da Vinci Code’ but with chew toys” will rip it off as well. Then he will refuse to go to the bathroom until you are back home again.
SP: Favorite poets?
AD: Well, there is a Springer Spaniel in Cobble Hill who specializes in the spondee meter. There is also a Portuguese Water Dog in Gowanus who has penned countless volumes in blank verse. And there was a Whippet in Red Hook who was a master of the elegy but has lately fallen under the spell of visual minimalist poetry and now all his pieces involve nose smudges against glass. Finally, there is “The Power of the Dog” by Rudyard Kipling, which is about how heartbreaking having a pet can be, so most canine poets agree that “Rudy” should have just stuck to writing verse about the mongoose.
SP: Now for the tough questions. What are some of the best and worst odors in Brooklyn?
AD: To a dog there are no bad odors. Every odor uncovered during a walk must be properly sniffed and snuffed, analyzed and itemized, reviewed and re-experienced until the dog’s person realizes three days have passed and the dog has only moved a quarter of an inch down the sidewalk.
SP: What do you call the thing on top of a house?
AD: Gambrel? Eaves? Truss? Cupola? Clearly the dog poet over here is either trying to show off or simply typed “roof” into thesaurus.com and just replied with the first four synonyms.
SP: Who’s the greatest baseball player of all time?
AD: Anybody who throws a ball to a dog for a game of catch is the greatest baseball player of all time.
But, in all seriousness, the real answer is “Babe Roof.”
Francesco Marciuliano at powerHouse Arena [37 Main St., at Water Street in DUMBO, (718) 666–3049, powerhousearena.com]. Aug. 28, 7 pm.