|Photo of Beezle by Craig Fordham for Country Living Mag.|
He enjoyed sharing the limelight on publishing occasions and always put on an obliging show. He liked meetings his fans. Here he is at the launch of our book
When I first started writing this blog Beezle made his first contribution and it seems apt that I put it here. He thought that blogs were more than likely just rather boring personal facts and opinions of the writer. I imagine he is right.
All you out there
I’d like to share
The hair and now
Of this dog.
This, - my dog blog.
My feelings, asleep, in front of the log
about a catalogue of films by
my memo of bones and their various tastes
How I would save
How many squirrels and stuff
A detailed account of my very best runs
My view on the economy.
Pensions, hedge funds…
My opinion of soap stars and bio-diversity
Why I slept through my owner’s
Why long walks can make me weary
My thoughts on the 9/11 conspiracy theory
My very interesting dialogue
With next door’s dog
How I bit the guitarist
Who used to play
with the Trogs.
I hear that cats are now the new dogs.
So I’ll probably change it to
Dog’s mog blog.
Any feed backs?
To www world wide woof
We buried him in the horse's field next to his beloved friend Jai the first wolfhound who died 8 years and two days before him. We made a nice grave and placed flowers on the top which later, when our backs were turned, Harry the horse ate.
After the last blog post Widget flew to freedom and the next day I discovered this little chap in the long grass. Unlike Widget he cannot and still cannot feed himself and makes very loud noises and stands with his scarlet red mouth open demanding his food. He is a very sweet writing companion and sits on the back of my chair whilst I work. He is called Capote after Truman Capote who had a pet raven.
Here they are just making friends in the shade tunnel. They really do chat to each other, making funny little squawking noises and sit side by side on the branch like a couple of old Victorian matriarchs in their black mourning clothes. Cap is in the foreground.
An Indian Moon moth only lives for a week.
so Beezle did very well living for nearly 832 weeks.
by Don Paterson
She might have had months left of her dog-years,
but to be who? She'd grown light as a nest
and spent the whole day under her long ears
listening to the bad radio in her breast.
On the steel bench, knowing what was taking shape
she tried and tried to stand, as if to sign
that she was still of use, and should escape
our selection. So I turned her face to mine,
and seeing only love there - which, for all
the wolf in her, she knew as well as we did-
she lay back down and let the needle enter.
And love was surely what her eyes conceded
as her stare grew hard, and one bright aerial
quit making its report back to the centre,