3 August 2007

In the morning the Bouvier had dried up a bit, but an unholy whiff still wafted up whenever he got near. His self-esteem seemed still shaken. He would approach me with awkard movements and a needy expression in his face. And every now and then he would still bend to reach the affected area, even though he could not think of an effective action to improve his situation. I could: I gave him a shower.

He was very reluctant to come into the bathroom – no fool, he. He had to be dragged with some force, but once there he resigned himself to the warm water and the shampoo. His frame decreased to about half its habitual dimensions with the wet hair stuck to his skin. You had to make an effort not laugh at him. Douglas the cat broke into inconsolable wailing outside the bathroom, possibly in sympathy for what he considered a cold-blooded torture on someone who was, after all, a family member. The Bouv came out in a fit of hyperactivity, no doubt part of it designed to shake the water off his fluffy body. The smell was gone, and nothing untoward stuck to his rear anymore. His dignity was saved.

True to his word, the farmer has been cutting the grass in our field. He must have arrived when I was out in the village buying food. As I came up the drive I could see his tractor’s rotor blades scything the wild growth into some kind of agrarian submission. He was working quite intently, but he responded when I waved from the car. He will use the cuttings for hay, even though, he had said, this is no longer the best time for it and it will be all seeded. But I think this is the time he is making his own hay, as are other local farmers. If the best time is past, our grass doesn’t seem to have been alone in outstaying its prime.

An interesting man this farmer. The other day he turned up with a present: one deep brown, speckled egg for K. It was perfectly shaped and tastefully coloured as if by the hand of an artist. I held it with admiration and respected the farmer for his attention to detail. K had been talking about liking brown eggs, such as a Maran might lay. This jewel was the farmer’s demonstration of one his Maran’s output. Now K very much wants a Maran.