Friday, December 2, 2011
A loving heart.
Out early for our morning walk. The folds between the hills still wrapped in mist and shadow. As we turn off the ridge a huge low flying owl brushes my cheek with the tips of its wings. My heart misses a beat . Not a car to be seen, not a sound to be heard . Just a Scotsman talking away to what seems to be a small , very slow moving polar bear . Friday morning rush hour in deepest Tarn-et-Garonne .
The sun is up by the time we get home . Madame Bay has recovered from her bout of the flu and is already hoovering happily away to the sounds of Petula Clarks 'Downtown ' . Today our saintly housekeeper is dressed in hide cowboy boots, jeans , a white nylon jacket and a paisley patterned turban fastened at the front by a large piece of red costume jewellery . For some reason she is also wearing a pair of sunglasses . Some questions are best left unasked .
Two in the morning . Wilf wanders into the dressing room , crashing into a table as he arrives . I get up and lead him downstairs . He stands in the hallway by the open front door , a look on his face that says " Why in heavens name would I want to go outside ? Week by week the confusion becoming more pronounced. So what ? Even the bravest dog sometimes needs reassurance when the world suddenly turns dark . Time to sit and have a mano a mano . A quick tickle under the chin , a few words of praise and he's soon sound asleep again. That old PON certainty - a loving heart is the truest wisdom.