Poem: The Surfer’s Dog

A darkened silhouette camps

down on the beach

shadowed by the rising sun.

Perched on the sand

like an antipodean sphinx,

he’s almost been there

since The Dreaming.

It’s the surfer’s dog.

He’s salty and sandy

with a wet, scraggly coat.

There’s a streak of pink zink

on his nose.

More Scruffy than Fluffy,

he knows he’s not pretty

but he’s just fine.

At least, he’s not

a backyard dog!

Oh no!

A surfer’s dog is a breed

all of its own!


Hibernating on the beach

in the hot, Australian sun,

his breathing’s slowed down.

Almost slowed down to a stop.

He barely moves from his spot.

Waiting…still waiting for his master!

He might have been waiting

but a dog’s still a dog.

Even the surfer’s dog will be

your best friend for a feed.

He’s heard many sad songs.

Has given advice

and has just been

a good place to lean.

Yet, as much as he listens

and can be a great mate,

his heart only belongs

to his master.

Nobody knows quite how long

he’s been waiting.

The beach is somehow beyond time

and the sun simply rises and sets.

Time comes and goes with the tides.

But the surfer’s dog’s always been there

He’s now become part of the place.

A real champion,

he never complains.

You don’t even hear

a soft whimper.

He’s not afraid of

being left on his own.

He knows that his master

always comes home.


Whenever I’ve gone to the beach,

the surfer’s dog has always been there.

Lying on the beach in the distance,

he’s almost a part of the sand.

Yet, as much as I felt like I knew him,

that I’d heard the song in his heart

we were really only just strangers.

I didn’t know what he thought.

But today for some reason unknown,

I sat down beside him and stopped.

Threw him a stick.

Gave him a pat.

We sat watching the waves roll by.

It was then that I finally heard it.

Heard the song playing in his heart.

A song with a beat of its own

and a dream which set him apart.

While other dogs just bark at the postman

or might chase the neighbourhood cat,

he wants to learn how to surf.

Ride the waves for himself.


as much as the waves

might roar in his heart,

as much as he lives

for his dream,

the surfer’s dog

is stuck in his tracks.


Stonkered, it seems.

He can dream all he likes

but a dog’s still a dog.

Dogs do not surf.

They only wait on the beach,

defending their turf.

Who’s he to challenge

the great status quo?

The way it’s always been?

He might have his dreams

but a dog’s still a dog.

No dog likes to be

laughed at, it seems.

Oh no! A dog has his pride.

He’s the surfer’s dog

and a surfer’s dog

never, ever cries!


fear hasn’t stopped him

from dreaming.

He knows one day

that he’ll be brave.

That one day he’ll strut into the water

and will finally catch that big wave.


The sun had almost reached midday

when his master finally returned.

He emerged from the surf strong and tall,

strutting down the beach with his board.

A tanned, Australian Adonis,

he sparkled like diamonds in the sun.

No need to whistle or call to his dog.

The dog was already gone.

Running, leaping, almost flying

wagging his tail non-stop,

the dog was right by his side.

I’ve never seen such love…

such devotion.


I felt a little bit sad

as the dog’s surfing dreams

had all gone.

A dog’s dreams might be transient.

They ebb and flow with the tides.

But the surfer and his dog…

they will live forever.

Their love will never, ever die.


5 thoughts on “Poem: The Surfer’s Dog

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