God and Dog

Now, HERE’S a human who “gets” dogs.

It really IS this simple.

Chow.

Please Read

If you are an owner of a dog that belongs to a ‘dangerous breed’
category and you also have a child or a visiting small child please
take this as a warning.

Don’t leave your dog with a small child unattended under any
circumstances!!!

Only one little moment was enough for the following to
happen:

Chow.

Lost in Translation

Ever wonder how different pastas got their names?  Their shape, of course.

Here is a list of pastas.  If you are a foodie, as am I, you will recognize the literal nature of each name.

Cannelloni: Large Reeds

Cappellini: Little Hats

Farfalle: Butterflies

Fettuccine: Small Ribbons

Linguine: Little Tongues

Manicotti: Little Muffs

Orecchiette: Little Ears

Penne: Quills

Ravioli: Little Turnips

Rotelli: Little Wheels

Spaghetti: Little Strings

Tortellini: Little Twists

Vermicelli: Little Worms (my personal favorite)

Dogs, by the way, came up with this first.  What subject in any dogs vocabulary is not directly based on the visual?  In English it’s squirrel; in Italian it’s scoiattolo.

Dogs call it like it is: scurrier.

Come to think about it, I’m betting both the English and the Italian were derived from the Dog.

Philologus narro, as it were.  Look it up.

Chow.

The Two Sexes

An Indiana University study has demonstrated that when men listen, they only do it with the left side of their brain (where speech is located).

Woman apparently listen with both halves.

I suppose that this explains why, when a man says something, women hear much more than was actually said.

Me, I listen mostly with my nose.  Tone of voice means something, of course, but the aroma in the hand means everything…

Chow.

AH-Choo

I hate sneezing.  

First of all, I don’t understand it.  It goes totally against all standards of wild behavior, after all.  Dogs who gave away their positions on the Savannah way back when simply didn’t make their mark in evolution….at least not in a way I covet.

Second of all, if one is targeting a flea in a difficult area of one’s flank, even a small sneeze will throw it off the trail.

What IS the reasoning behind this convulsion?  To clean the nose?  To scare the daylights out of the hegemony? To blow the fluff from the corner of my dog-dish?

All valid but none, necessary.

I fear the act may be going the way of Darwin: phased out over time as runny nosed dogs simply don’t survive.

Solution: give the sneeze true purpose.  Use it as an emotion, any emotion. Make it cute, like one’s presence at the dinner table, wide-eyed and ears perked at the possibility of a crumb.

After all, cute survives, no?

Hairless Chihuahuas not-withstanding….

Chow.

Rats

The fossilized skull of a rat the size of a car has been found in Uruguay.  It’s about 4 million years old and weighed about a ton, so big, in fact, that it probably spent most of it’s life submerged in water: a giant Hippo with a long tail and pointy nose.  

They nicknamed it Mighty Mouse.

Apparently, the largest living rodent now is Capybaras at 60 kg fully grown…now, that’s a meal.

And here’s a new reason to travel to New Guinea:

Where’s my passaport0?

Chow.

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.

BYOB

Dogs are ubiquitous in the bars and cafes of Italy.  

Who do you think cleans the floor? It keeps labor costs down and subsidizes the feeding of urban canines.

Brilliant, no?

But bunnies in restaurants?

Take a lepus to lunch? Bring your own bunny.

Chow.

On The Road, Again

Alas, we quit the palace yesterday.  La Reserve disappeared from sight through the rear window of the Big Black Car, my angst at leaving born out as drool down the fine leather back seat.

We drove the windy coast road above Monaco, across the border into Italy.

Adieu, Francia.  A bientot.

I believed all was lost when we passed through Milano.  Busy streets; commercial sections; no beaches in sight.

Then, a hint of greenery from the open car window as we sped out of the city.  A nose out the forward section to decipher the air: water.

Fresh water.  Sweet, salt-free, non-irritating, hypo-allergenic H2O.  No more itchy after effects of retrieving floating sea-born objects.

Lake Como spread before us like a giant azur-blue carpet, sparkling with silver thread in the sunlight.  The car rolled down a narrow road beside the water for what seemed like miles, then pulled up to il grande palazzo del lago: Il Serbelloni in Bellagio.

A sturdy gentleman in a tan uniform heaved our bags from the car onto a trolley (my bag, with a small sheepskin rug, a green, water-proof ball and a genuine mink cat-like facsimile, came first).  The scent of grilled lake-fish dressed in garlic and parsley wafted through the entry doors.

The porter pulled a bone-shaped treat from his coat pocket and slipped it into my grateful mouth.

Traveling is hell, no?

Chow.

Going to Grasse

Side trip from the beaches of the Cote D’Azur to Grasse today.  Why leave the poolside, I ask…until we arrived at the perfumerie.The inside was nearly scentless.  Odd for the site of such haute odor, as it were.

First we had a tour of the facility: flower gathering, petal crushing, essence distillation.  A veritable vegetal delight.  Too bad I’m a carnivore.  It seems they are leaving out a broad contingent of possible sales here.  Goat #5; Rooster Persuasion; Joy de Cat.  I’m sure there’s a market, no?

My Contessa sidled up to a tall counter, a woman in a white coat stood by with a small bottle in hand.  Tiny straws were dipped. one by one into a few dozen vessels, the Contessa taking a shallow whiff of each.

Roses, lavander, hyacinth and many too foreign for me to name.  I was still waiting for the Evening au Demi-Glace.  A little behind each floppy ear.  Eau de Veau would certainly be my favorite.Selection complete, the Contessa pulled several 100 euro notes from her purse and we returned to the car.  A brisk wind blew and tall pink flowers tipped their heads to the roadside.  Unable to resist, I sampled a blossom: nothing like the rare essence confined to the tiny bottles.  Vegetal and bitter.

Like wine, I suppose, anything of featured flora is better under the press.  It gives one pause when considering a new venture, though.

How does one press a cat?

Chow.