Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Picture Of Daisy
Muffie @ Kaleidoscope Muff tagged me on 11 April
To see link to her post that day
I would like to tag the following blogs:
Rei @ Xenomorph Angel
Sherry @ Word Salads
Chekoala @ Wobbly Teetering Blogging
Kris @ Where To Vegan
Dawn @ Vanilla Kitchen
Darlene @ Rustic Ranch
Nikina @ Nik’s Backyard
Pb @ Pat’s Pond
MS-Understood @ MS-Understood
S.S-O @ Multiple Sclerosis And Me
Marit @ Marit Christlock-Lauterbach
My favourite photo is of our first dog Daisy on the balcony @ the Haarlemmerdijk, Amsterdam in 1997.
She was a beautiful dog, a typical terrier and amazingly well behaved and very obedient for one.
A very clever dog, she could fetch her bed and blanket to spend lazy Sunday mornings in the bedroom with us drinking tea and listening to the radio.
She was a great little actress if you told her she was sad and having a hard time she would look very sad indeed in seconds, an Oscar winnign performance.
Daisy was a great mouse and rat hunter, solved the mouse problem one summer att he Haarlemmer Dijk in 1997 and got the undying love of a local flowershop by killing a rat she chased out of his shop and killed in 1999.
She was very popular on that street getting lots of attention and dog biscuits from the shop keepers while I had to wait to buy something.
A great dog and sorely missed by Richie and I.
And my favourite poem by Allen Ginsberg is:
A Supermarket In California
What thoughts I have of you tonight, Walt Whitman, for I walked down the
streets under the trees with a headache self-conscious looking at the full moon.
In my hungry fatigue, and shopping for images, I went into the neon fruit
supermarket, dreaming of your enumerations!
What peaches and what penumbras! Whole families shopping at night! Aisles
full of husbands! Wives in the avocados, babies in the tomatoes! --- and you,
Garcia Lorca, what were you doing down by the watermelons?
I saw you, Walt Whitman, childless, lonely old grubber, poking among the
meats in the refrigerator and eyeing the grocery boys.
I heard you asking questions of each: Who killed the pork chops? What price
bananas? Are you my Angel?
I wandered in and out of the brilliant stacks of cans following you, and
followed in my imagination by the store detective.
We strode down the open corridors together in our solitary fancy tasting
artichokes, possessing every frozen delicacy, and never passing the cashier.
Where are we going, Walt Whitman? The doors close in an hour. Which way does
your beard point tonight?
(I touch your book and dream of our odyssey in the supermarket and feel
Will we walk all night through solitary streets? The trees add shade to
shade, lights out in the houses, we'll both be lonely.
Will we stroll dreaming of the lost America of love past blue automobiles in
driveways, home to our silent cottage?
Ah, dear father, graybeard, lonely old courage-teacher, what America did you
have when Charon quit poling his ferry and you got out on a smoking bank and
stood watching the boat disappear on the black waters of Lethe?
Have a good day everyone and please do not forget to visit Steve @ The Wheel of Fortuna and leave him a supportive comment.