Travel Tales on Love and Meditation

Tuesday, 21 September 2010

The Puppy of Penedes

On the two acre stretch of land where I'm currently staying, there lives two alsatians; Kye, an elderly male with failing hind legs, and Lisa, an eight month old puppy. Lisa is a nusiance. A Nusiance.
Earlier I attempted to clear out the damp pine needles that were clogging up the roof of the water tank. Every time I bend down to grab a clump, there's Lisa, winding her body in knots around my legs, stamping on my feet, her snout in my face, her playful jaws snapping at my dangling hair. I throw the clump off the edge of the roof in the hope she'd go after it. She does but then appears immediately behind me, ears alert. I lunge for the fresh clump I've collected, she goes right for my hands, jaws snapping again, practically throwing herself at me. I push her away, she nudges back, wetting my chin with dog snot and starts jumping around in front of me, muddy paws all over my legs.
Arghhh! I shout, getting angry. This continues for another twenty minutes. She simply won't let me do my job.
I start crying in frustration. I stare at her willing her to go away one last time. She gazes back happily, her head tilted slightly to one side as if to say 'what's the next game?' I finally realise she's trying to teach me something.
I give up. Bloody dogs. We spend the next hour playing, I enjoy the work.

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