‘Under the new made clouds and happy as the heart was long,
In the sun born over and over,
I ran my heedless way...’
(Dylan Thomas, ‘Fern Hill’, from ‘Deaths and Entrances’)
Our Cesky puppy, Eddie, soon learns to how to tackle the step down from the long terrace to the lawn below. Despite all warnings in books about a dog’s lack of collar bone and the dangers of strenuous movements during his first year, he launches himself with gay abandon and lands with aplomb. Eddie the Eagle.
We have gained a doggie that is powered by joy. Joie de vivre. He has devised numerous Formula 1 tracks, complete with chicanes, hairpin bends and home straights around various sections of the garden, even including a route which includes leaps up onto and down from the terrace and the whole of the living room. Black arrow, a solid-fuel rocket.
After his exertions, Eddie likes to lie on his back, his legs slightly splayed out, his head to one side. There is one spot on the floor that he often chooses. It is where our previous dog died in her white-coat surplice, her legs slightly splayed out under her, her head to one side.
Black and white. Negative and positive images. Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There.
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