Tuesday, March 6, 2012
How do they know ?
Wilf has a bath. There was a time when he would have struggled , or disappeared, or both. Now he accepts his fate with dignified resignation . Afterwards he gets not one , but two , Jacobs Cream Crackers . Small recompense for lifes trials and tribulations .
He stretches out in the courtyard to dry off. Soon he's lost in that special dog place somewhere between sleep and meditation . Around him , and just inches away, blackbirds and finches peck away at the gravel looking for grubs. How do they know he's not a threat ? Can they sense he's old ? Or blind ? Maybe he emits a pheromone that says I won't bother you if you don't bother me ? Maybe, he's just still ?
Our evening walk across the village green . The very old farmer ( not to be confused with our neighbour the argumentative old farmer ) is there. His ancient and exceedingly decrepit van has finally, and irreperably, broken down. Amazing it's kept going for so long starved of oil and attention .
The mayor has arranged for a ridiculously oversized truck to come and take the van away. '' Convoi Exceptionnel " written in large letters across the front. I help the truck driver, and the village gardener push the Citroen up the ramp. The little, battered thing sits there looking forlorn and lost on the huge trailer. Wilf contributes to the event by christening the trucks front tyres .
The very old farmer stands in the lane waving goodbye to it in much the same way as he might wave goodbye to an old friend . He's still there when it's lost out of sight.