Happy New Year dear Reader of cogsblog - heralded by this photo of a tree of remarkable singing linnets(photo taken by my dear friend Laura) If any ornithologists out there want to challenge the assumption they are linnets please leave a polite comment.
or beautiful baby Pixies- who - ok are useless at tying up shoelaces but really excellent at eating the shoe. This year she has also eaten a large quantity of carrot cake. some cheese. a nice Turkish cushion and most of yesterday's lunch.
|a beautiful baby Pixie|
I suppose, as he and Scott would say "Great God! This is an awful place."
However - this morning when I came down stairs and realised I'd left the living room door open - I heard him scampering out. His little claws make a clicking noise like knitting needles on the wooden floors. He looked guilty too - like he'd been disloyal to Jai. You just don't know what goes on in a dog's head do you?
O.K. If any of you are on this blog because it advertises it in the back of my book (The Boy with the tiger's Heart) and were hoping for bookish things all I can say is that sometimes I write about the books but mostly about dogs. However this year I will be beginning a book tour which will involve talking to loads of kids at schools and trying to be entertaining, witty, fun - oh where's the thesaurus when you need it?
Also I'm wondering if I should downsize? A life without encumbrance .......
The way the dog trots out the front door
without a hat or an umbrella,
without any money
or the keys to her dog house
never fails to fill the saucer of my heart
with milky admiration.
Who provides a finer example
of a life without encumbrance—
Thoreau in his curtainless hut
with a single plate, a single spoon?
Ghandi with his staff and his holy diapers?
Off she goes into the material world
with nothing but her brown coat
and her modest blue collar,
following only her wet nose,
the twin portals of her steady breathing,
followed only by the plume of her tail.
If only she did not shove the cat aside
and eat all his food
what a model of self-containment she would be,
what a paragon of earthly detachment.
If only she were not so eager
for a rub behind the ears,
so acrobatic in her welcomes,
if only I were not her god.