Gathering Nuts

The squirrels are out in full force up in the Pincio. There’s nary a nut to be found now.  They’re all squirreled away, if you will.

I sit and watch the dizzying creatures, mostly.  Chasing them is fun, but it becomes tiresome after a while.  Squirrel, tree, squirrel, tree, squirrel, tree.

So, I muse of other ways to use this rodent.  Below is one of my favorites.  It’s design reminds me somewhat of a machine Leonardo might have developed had he simply switched his obsession from flying a human to flying a squirrel:

Then there’s the commercial amusement of providing the squirrel with a different take on an e-ticket Disney ride:

Either way, I want one of each, please.

Chow.

The Worm Turns

Spring!  The Pincio park is covered with the miracle of tiny flowers pushing their way up through dark soil and my muzzle is covered with dirt.

The spring worm is turning once again.  Light, earthy and with a hint of grit, like an unfiltered Chianti, they slip down my throat with ease.

And the mining required to find them is an added perk, for digging is the true avocation of any dog.  The precision involved is in avoiding the new flowers.  Return to your people with so much as a young petal on your tongue and cries spew forth as though a fine piece of undergarment had been tattered. 

It is a delicate operation removing the worm from the base of a new bud without harm to the spring color,   but well worth the trouble.  For the worn encapsulates all things of doggish dreams: slim, filth, writhe and odor, heady after-taste,

the feeling of conquering hero

….champion of the garden of Roman gods. Chow.

Cloud Dog

In between clouds, the spring sun shines warmly on the grass of the Pincio today.  I took a long walk, stopping to roll here and there, picking up the scent of recent dogs and the color of the grass.

Once I paused to look up, legs in the air, snout pointed to the sky, and this is what I saw: A Cloud Dog.

If this were ancient Rome, Nero might have seen this and proclaimed either the Day of Dog and we would still be in power, or that every dog be eaten, depending on the clarity of his mind at the moment.  I am happy emperors no longer rule.  It is enough to suffer periodic edicts from the Management: “Don’t get on the furniture, get down from the bed, don’t lick the floor”, et cetera.

Though irritating, life must be simpler now, and more predictable.  Dinner usually comes on time, and mornings bring a walk on the Pincio…where I can roll, mindless, on the grass.

Chow.