Tales of a Very Bad Dog Owner
I probably shouldn’t even be telling this one, but it’s so striking, to me at least,* about . . . well, dogs, and human frailty. Also that Chaos is nuts, even as sighthounds go.
I have not been keeping you up to date about the hellhounds’ latest cycle of digestive mayhem. I think I told you about taking them to the (standard) vet a ( Read more... )
I must admit I had this image of you chasing Chaos to make you eat, connected to Greek grandmothers. I have to say that when I was growing up, quite a while ago, all Greek grandmothers had been through the German Occupation and the subsequent Civil War and consequently had known HUNGER (capitals intended). (A million Greeks died of starvation the winder of 41-42). This gave them a strange relationship to food. My own grandmother, a plump figure in her youth had slimmed down to a very shapely figure indeed after the deprevations of the war, but swore she would never, ever be hungry again, and made sure she wasn't.
But during my childhood every time you went to the park (and my very English mother made sure we went every single day) you would come face to face with the Greek grandmothers, often dressed in black, because in those days if you were a widow you wore black until you died, chasing after their grandchildren, tupperware and spoon in hand begging them to eat. And there would be the spoiled grandchildren, extraordinarily well fed, refusing to eat... Grandmother trailing behind them, spoon in hand, whining at them, they, lordly beings refusing.
Your chasing Chaos, impenetrable, wilful and whimsical sighthound that he is just made me flash on that image... I got a giggle out of it, although you do have my sympathy over dealing with the problems eater.
Susan from Athens
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