Not Just Whistling

OK…I can corner a scorpion in the cucina. 

I can think in at least two languages, I can write a blog—-I can howl.

But I can’t whistle like this:

Just put your lips together and blow? 

What lips.

Chow.

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Any Port in a Storm

We’re visiting our farm in Chianti this weekend.  The weather is windy and rainy but I don’t mind.  There is a fire in the fireplace and bread in the oven. 

I love it here: a good cook in the cucina, young leaves on the vines, chicks in the hen-house, and the addition of a puppy to the family of the caretaker.

Alas, the poor young creature has not yet taken a good look in the mirror.

I guess it’s any port in a storm.

Chow.

Sunday Dinners

I was trying to explain to a friend of mine how splendid Sunday dinner was last night and what a wonderful effect it always has on me, from head to toe. 

Pictures are so often worth the thousand words that, as a dog,  I will never speak:

Chow…exactly.

Sometimes I Wonder

Did you ever have that feeling of infinity?

There are times I feel I just don’t know which way is up: when I roll, belly up, on a fresh cut lawn or take an evening walk under the stars in the Tuscan countryside.  It’s akin to those times I find myself in the multi-mirrored dressing room of my Contessa and a thousand terriers suddenly watch my every move. 

Which one is really me?  And does it matter?  What force, the canine heart in the grand scheme of things?  Perhaps ridiculous issues for a small dog, but issues none-the-less.

My conclusion: anything that boosts the joy of man is worth it’s weight in treats and the return of a gentle hand.

Dogs rule.

Chow.

Puppyhood

I once might have looked something like this…

I teethed on everything from Aubusson carpets to eighteenth- century pine.  I once heard from the management that I was worthless yet, in the same breath, they added that I had cost them over four-thousand euros in eighteen months.  I don’t know where all the money went.  The amount in my food dish never multiplied nor did the availability of toys increase. 

I suspect someone was skimming under the table, though I was always alone under there.

Needless to say, I survived puppyhood.

God makes all young creatures appealing so they won’t be immediatley squashed upon chewing the fine leather of a new shoe— non e vero?

Chow.