Saturday, April 12, 2014
You risk tears if you let yourself be tamed.
First light. Bob and Sophie get harnessed up. We go outside. Before I can lock the front door Bob decides to go back inside . Sophie follows. Sophie comes back outside. Bob rushes round the house looking for 'the font' . Bob is finally coaxed into the courtyard and into the back of the car. He then leaps out of the car in hot pursuit of a blackbird. The offer of a kibble and he clambers back in. Why the simple act of getting out of the house should generate so much daily excitement remains a mystery of dog ownership.
Our morning routine. To the Cafe for an illicit half croissant, a visit to the bakers, a detour to the strawberry farm for two tubs of fresh gariguettes. A walk by the stream where Bob displays his inept fishing skills. Finally, a quick tour of the village. Very Old Farmer, Old Widow,Old Farmer, municipal workman on the tractor - all greeted. By nine the little angels are exhausted.
Home. This morning the two of them decide to sleep on the creaky wooden staircase. A previous generation of PON's did the same thing. Elder, ever watchful, brother dozing on the higher step. Younger sibling snoring, indecorously, on the step below. Can they sense that their predecessors slept in this same spot ? Perhaps all dog owners have this sense of deja vu ?