Big Dog’s Coat of Not Many Colours

It was cold today. I mean not too cold.  My words are too short. I feel I should be writing something poetic about the approaching winter and I know that Smidge would say this with a whole lot more elegance and poetry but there was a wintry feel to the air that blew around our heads today.   So we put Big Dog’s new coat on.

He had begun to actually shiver. He is old, and though he eats very well, he does not carry a lot of warming blubber. His blue coat may attract some giggles from his co-workers on the farm though I am sure that the mirth will be firmly hidden behind paws and wings  because he seems to be quite happy with his coat. He has not tried to roll it off, or drag it along tree trunks. He trotted off to his bed in the barn, curled up in his blankets and went straight to sleep. 

After he  told TonTon the Wellington Dog that if he so much as imagined a snigger, his head would be chook food. 

Daisy, as usual, watched the proceedings with sublime detachment. 

And Li’l Puss the Scrapper chose the wisest course of turning a blind eye. 

I forgot the Daily View.  How did I do that? I remembered to take the shot of the thermometers and walked straight past  the Daily View.  Ah well.  No animal was harmed in the making of this forgetfulness.

Many years ago I began to write a play about an old man who spent the summer living in a cherry picker raised up into the trees above his big old house by the sea, he would lower a flax basket down to his daughter-in-law, she would load it with food and books and he would haul it back up with a reluctant grunt of thanks.  He very seldom spoke, and was full of crushing wit when he did, as he slowly worked his way through the grief of becoming old and the other various and sundry  disappointments that follow us through a life.

This old man popped straight back into my head at 4 .30 this morning and asked ever so politely if I could write him into my NaNoWriMo Novel.  Because he lives up on another level, and there are not very many characters in my story, he and his cherry picker are most welcome. He does not have a name yet though.  He needs a name.

Have a lovely, lovely day.

celi