Patsy and Skippy

Do you have any other favourites from The Wonderful World of Dogs? asked Pliny.

Yes, I said. The one called Patsy and Skippy. I read it with increasing scepticism, but towards the end I realised it was totally insane and I enjoyed it after that.

Intriguing, said Pliny. What happens in the story?

It's written in the first person by Patsy. She was in rehab in Florida for nine months for an alcohol addiction. She and some other women are sitting out on the patio when Patsy spots a dog on the grass. She goes over to it. It looks uncared for and unwell. She bonds with it instantly. She calls it Skippy and feeds it and takes it to a vet she met in rehab. But Skippy has a serious condition. Level four heartworm! During the month long treatment Patsy stays in the cage with Skippy at the vet's, cradling her in her arms until closing time.

What? says Pliny.

Exactly, I say. Anyway, Skippy miraculously recovers. Unfortunately Skippy's owner Tex lives just up the road. He sees his dog looking better and decides he wants her back. One weekend when Patsy is on a trial visit to her husband Tex takes Skippy back to his place and locks her in. Patsy is distraught. Her visit was successfiul and her counsellor has said she can go back home at last. But she can't go without Skippy!

Skippy isn't her dog, said Pliny.

I know, I said. But she loves Skippy and Skippy loves her. She goes to see Tex to ask for Skippy. He nastily refuses, even when she offers money. Everyone at rehab is on her side. They pray for her and Skippy, and give advice. It is nearly too late now. Patsy is flying home the day after tomorrow. She goes over to Tex's for one last try. Tex is out, but Skippy is in the yard. The gate is blocked on the inside by a heavy barrel. She pushes with all her might, and Skippy runs out of the crack. She takes her to the vet, who agrees to hide her there.

Aiding and abetting, said Pliny.

Yes. Patsy returns to rehab, just as the police get there. They ask her where the dog is. She says she doesn't have a dog. They search her room. Luckily there is nothing of Skippy's there. The rehab attorney talks to Patsy. She tells him what she's done. The attorney tells the police that Patsy doesn't have a dog. Patsy is only charged with a misdemeanour.

What was the misdemeanour if she didn't have the dog? asked Pliny.

Beats me I said. The next day Patsy flies home to her family with Skippy. She and Skippy were always meant to be together. That's the end.

You may have liked it, said Pliny. But I am not so sure.

Perhaps you need to read it for yourself, I said. To get the tone.

Not All About Space

Yes, I remember the gist......

The eminent professor speaks:

Welcome to my lecture on Space. I'm going to tell you how we can make money out of it.

Here in Australia we have let ourselves get behind in Space. In the 1960s we sent up a rocket ship, here is a photograph. Yes, it looks like Rocket, the talking rocket character made famous by Mr Squiggle, I agree. We sent up several satellites that looked like toasters too. And I bet you thought all satellites were round.

After that we sent up our very own spaceman Andy Thomas, but by a circuitous route. That was because he ascended from the USA. Before him, we sent up another even less famous person whose name was Jeremy.

Since then Australia has remained on the outer, but the big players are interested in us for three reasons. Because we are here, fair and bare. Wait, it is supposed to rhyme. Maybe it was bare, fair and there.

Next we have a slide of a satellite dish and some greenery. Looking into the greenery is a woman in blue pants and a green top. What is she doing there?

Stop! Stop! No! I did not say any of this!

Oh dear, now I have upset the professor.

Embroi-der-y

A burglar, while burgling a house, takes meat out of the freezer and leaves it to defrost. He is looking for money in the freezer hidden behind the meat. People do sometimes hide money in the fridge. Burglars look for it there. It isn't surprising that a burglar would take the meat out of the freezer and not put it back. Put yourself in the place of the burglar. It's not what you would do.

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An art exhibition on Wednesday. One of the artists has embroidered four steak knives and four defrosting cuts of meat. The blades of the knives glitter sharply and blood oozes out of the meat in tiny beaded blobs, frosted fractals melt into icy pools of water under the meat, executed in tiny even stitches that the artist has learned in classes at Hampton Court.

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A moth has eaten six holes in a pale blue woollen blanket edged with slippery satin. It was looking for something to eat, that is all. Moths do sometimes eat holes in blankets when they are hungry. It isn't surprising. Put yourself in the place of the moth. It's what you would do.

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Tuesday, at the wooden table out the back. On the table, a yellow cloth embroidered with daisies. On the cloth, the pale blue woollen blanket, with six holes in the middle. An artist is darning the holes with fine strands of blue baby wool which she has previously unravelled. She weaves the strands in and out across the holes from left to right and then from top to bottom, one by one. The sun is bright. A fly sits on the blanket, she waves it away. She feels strangely happy.

Fortiter araneulas frango

Pliny says No No No to the grapes motto. He thinks I should try 'I am bold when it comes to killing small spiders'.

He says he knows it to be true. He has seen me do it with his own eyes. He says that if it would not spoil the motto, which it would, I ought to make it medium sized spiders.

I ask him why. He says that he has seen me let small spiders live, when they are in the bath or on a page of a book I'm reading. I was unaware that he observed me so closely. He is right though. Small spiders are money spiders and to kill them is bad luck.

I want him to help me with the Latin. He says he won't but he will give me some helpful advice. Don't translate it literally, try for brevity and succinctness.

Let's try the literal. Sum audax dum venit frangere parvas araneas. Yes that does sound rather clunky.

How about 'Boldly I crush small spiders'. Fortiter frango araneas parvas.

That's still too long, says Pliny. You can make it shorter. Use the diminutive.

O clever!

Fortiter frango araneulas! Boldly I crush wee spids.

But Pliny's right. I don't. Just mid-size ones. There's a fundamental problem with this motto.

Six Parts

I didn't find time to sit down and review my life yesterday, until bedtime, and by then I was of course lying.

In bed I realised how hard it was going to be.

I thought of many beginnings. Just before I went to sleep I came to a decision.

It was that I was a bit delirious and needed to go to sleep.

But I had at least come up with a plan. It was, to divide my review into six parts, the first of these to be named The Pepys, after the great diarist Samuel Pepys.

That will be an easy way into it, because I do a Pepysian every year. It largely consists of recording the members of my current household, the amount of money in my purse, and what new things I have learned to do during the past year.

It's good, it doesn't take long, and you can cheat about the money.