Louisa Parry's Three Beautiful Things » dog

Three beautiful things from the last five minutes

louisa — Fri, 19 Nov 2010 16:20:11 +0000

1. A scratch-scratch-scratch. I open the door and a little boy & two little girls are waiting together to be admitted into the room of cosy-warm.

2. In previous days, I may have been sad that the pie tin was too big for the cats but instead I get to be happy that it’s perfectly sized for the dog.

3. The cats flank me, one either side of my laptop. Boron leans in for head kisses (my lips are on his head as I type this) while Carla simply purrs.

Not finished yet, waggle welcome, blown out

louisa — Thu, 11 Nov 2010 22:00:22 +0000

1. The last flashes of summer – a slowly ripening chilli, a sweet pea flower curving up to the light, the scent of the brushed basil in the porch.

2. I wish I had a tail to wag too, then we could run around in wagging unison when he comes home from the office. Instead, she gets to do the waggledy running in circles thing and get a hug.

3. The constant roar is like an unrelenting sea – the gales force winds buffeting through the near naked trees. Then when we turn the light off to go to sleep, it suddenly stops. For two, three minutes, the world is silent.

Sunlight & animals, Purple parasols, Eternal nerdy teenager

louisa — Wed, 06 Oct 2010 21:00:07 +0000

1. I have lunch – leftover kedgeree – on the balcony. The cats and dog sit together in the soft sunlight.

2. Always on the look out for mushrooms, we find Amethyst Deceivers (Laccaria amethystea) – an amazingly deep, rich purple in the brown leaf litter.

3. As usual, I come home from drama and tell John stories from class. After one story:

Him “it’s just like being back at school”
Me (gushing) “except the cool kids like me!”

Justification, ker-plosh, bwark-kuk-kuk

louisa — Sun, 03 Oct 2010 22:00:52 +0000

1. The heavy rain disrupts my gardening plans. Instead, I curl under a blanket with the dreaming dog and finish reading my book.

2. On the drive to Bingley, John makes poo-hitting-water noises and I can’t help but laugh and laugh.

3. There is just enough time between the rain stopping and night falling for us to do our most important outside chores. I clean out the chicken coop and the girls cluck around me to say thanks.

After the chicken run, stepping stone, repeating, evening walk, giveaway smell

louisa — Sun, 08 Aug 2010 21:00:45 +0000

1. I sneak back into bed and facing each other, we hold hands inbetween our chests. The dog snuggles her nose into the inverted v-shaped space between our arms.

2. I half open my eyes when I feel the cat step off me. I see her use the sleeping dog as a stepping stone to get to her dad. After she’s settled down on the other side of the bed, Lily finally reacts, looking first at the cat then at me. “Yes, I saw it,” I whisper.

3. I finally meet one of our neighbours for the first time. We chat chickens and growing things. A dog bark in the distance calls me away but just before I go, I think to introduce myself. As I walk away, I hear him repeating my name to himself as a memory aid.

4. We – Lily, John & I – take an evening walk in Thackley Woods. The world is still, the only sounds bird call & distant whinnying and over Baildon’s hills, the sunset is a hazy red.

5. The cat has been sleeping in the washing again. When she jumps on my knee, she smells line-fresh.

One about a dog & one about a lost cat, real/virtual

louisa — Sat, 07 Aug 2010 21:00:41 +0000

1. Jake the German Shepherd’s ears are marvellous: when he’s intrigued by something, they not only lift up but bend together to form one giant attentive ear.

2. I say her name and she meows. A few steps then we repeat it again and again. A barrier of nettles, brambles and a steep drop barely navigable in the bare winter keeps me from her so I have to walk back to the garden, down and right around but all the while, I say her name and she meows. This is how we find each other then I carry her home.

3. After an afternoon in the garden, tending to the veg beds & the chickens, I spend the evening playing Harvest Moon DS Cute – tending to my virtual veg beds & virtual chickens.

Warm-up, someone made some effort, starting the sauce

louisa — Tue, 27 Jul 2010 21:00:32 +0000

1. Around the time of her usual lunchtime walk, her tail starts wagging even though the rest of her is dozing on the sofa. “It’s a warm-up, like stretching,” I tell John.

2. The boxes are coloured to indicate who they’re for – the big cat, the little cat or the dog. The colours – rich raspberry, burnt orange and cool purple – are contrasting complements, and until I see them together in the bag, I didn’t realise spot-on flea treatment packaging could be so pretty.

3. It takes a while for the smell to reach me – the sweet scent frying onions and the garlic – but when it does, I suddenly develop an appetite.

Rollmöpse, things past, wish I could Ctrl+F books to find it again

louisa — Mon, 26 Jul 2010 22:00:17 +0000

1. The rollmops – pickled herring – are perfect: neither too fishy or too vinegary, just sweet and tangy.

2. I sit on the steps up to the door of our old house and pull grass seeds and sticky buds from the dog’s ears, tail and feathering. I feel nostalgic for all the time I spent on the steps with the cats – a favoured grooming spot but also just a favoured sitting spot in fair weather. As much as I can’t wait to be rid of it, to not have to think about it any more, I’ll be sad when we have to say goodbye to the house – my home for a decade – for the last time. One day, I’m going to make a scale model/dolls’ house of it so I don’t forget the good times there.

3. Re-reading ‘Drop City’ by TC Boyle yet again. I find new things to cherish each time through. “…stone light of dawn” is a phrase that sticks with me this time.

31 Beautiful Things

louisa — Tue, 20 Jul 2010 22:00:39 +0000

In honour of my 31st birthday, here are 31 beautiful things from today. (Cross posted to my main blog.)

1. I’d gone to bed before John and it’s after midnight when he comes to bed. I stir as he climbs in next to me and we have a sleepy exchange, the content of which I can’t remember now. He finishes with a whisper of “happy birthday by the way” and I remember that.

2. The next time I wake up (well, it’s not the next time I wake up because I had to get up for a wee just after dawn and Carla woke me up again an hour after that, but for poetic licence, let’s say the next time I woke up), John’s stood in front of me holding something in his hands. I move the pillow from on top of my head and grab my glasses to see what it is – two carrier bags, containing chole & puree, and barfi & other sweet treats. Yum!

3. I notice that without its dust cover, my book matches the bedsheets.

4. Lily woofs and helicopter-tails around the room when George arrives. She brings him shoes and circles his legs. Lily loves George.

5. I sit on the stately patio chair – which I call “my birthday throne” – while John and George (unsuccessfully) attempt to split the giant logs. We laugh a lot at their efforts.

6. The poultry spice – a “mineral supplement and general tonic” – smells like an old fashioned sweet shop.

7. After introducing himself, the voice on the phone says simply “I’ve got good news”. His news should save us anywhere between £6,000 and £10,000, and months of coordinating building work. Very good news!

8. Despite being washed many times, my fingers still smell of the breakfast curry.

9. One of the scaredy cats from next door half-raises his tail when he sees me. When I’m feeding him & his brothers, he likes me a lot and we have big hugs but outside of those times, he’s a shy boy. The half tail raise is progress.

10. My mum breaks a 31 year tradition by buying me a birthday card without a cat on the front of it (it had a Lily-esque springer on it instead.)

11. Not-very-garlicky mushroom, olive and fresh basil.

12. Parma ham and more not-garlicky mushrooms.

13. Tuna, chilli and capers.

14. I add a new simple living blog and a new comic to my feed reader. It’s inspiring and invigorating to find new fellow travellers – but a bit of silliness is always welcome too.

15. The cats stand at right angles to each other as they drink the leftover tuna water. From directly above, the white rims of the bowls look like halos.

16. Splashes dribbling down the side of the pan produce a burning smell but every now and then, the sweet comforting warm milk smell breaks through.

17. Lily’s brown spots are strangely soft and silky today. (#notaeuphemism)

18. I squeeze the butter muslin and the curds form into a pleasingly round sphere. When I unwrap it, the cheese will be imprinted by the fine check of the fabric.

19. It’s dark – overcast and under many layers of tree cover – but still the grass and ferns glow an unearthly green.

20. The rain is heavy and sonorous but not unpleasant.

21. “Listen,” I tell John after directing him into the bedroom. A wet roar drowns out everything else but it’s not rain on trees like we both first thought: it’s the beck, flowing more heavily than it’s done in months. Just a few minutes earlier, we’d step through it on the stepping stones left by the last flood. Next time we cross it, we’ll have to navigate it anew.

22. Amongst the lines of light and shadow, the black cat sleeps in a ball.

23. The other black cat is asleep in the dog’s bed. I find him there when I get out of the bath. He looks dramatic against the neutral cushion and pastel blanket. He blinks at me as I dance around the room.

24. I don’t think I’ll ever tire of playing hide and seek with the dog. I can see why cats do it now – hide when they know they’ve not been seen then jump out. I don’t bat with the victim with my paws though, I give her a hug instead.

25. It’s at this point – after I’ve inserted an earlier beautiful thing and had to renumber the rest about five times – that I realise it would have been easier to use an ordered list () instead of doing it manually. I don’t know if the pay off is worth it now though. Oh, and I realise this isn’t really a beautiful thing but do you know how hard it is to come up with 31 of them? Even on a rather jolly pleasant day? It’s hard!

26. Now we’re flanking her on the sofa, there isn’t quite so much room to stretch out length ways so she stretches across it instead. Her head dangles over the edge, her tongue lolling, her lips flapping.

27. I savour the parma ham. It feels like it’s melting on my tongue but it isn’t. I think if I could only eat one type of meat again for the rest of my life, it would be parma ham.

28. I point John at the most recent Hyperbole and a Half comic about her dog. He laughs loudly as the dog twists its head further in an attempt at understanding.

29. We watch “The Counterfeiters” – the next in my short, impromptu German language film festival. The subtitles aren’t quite right for some reason and the mistakes remind me of child language acquisition.

30. Carla sits on my knee throughout the film. I stroke her, she purrs.

31. We look at the dark window – not at the world outside but at the rooms behind us. It makes the living room seem new again and through the doorway, the dining room looks so lovely that I can’t believe it’s ours.

Splattered everywhere, happy to see him, surprise success

louisa — Sat, 17 Jul 2010 21:00:09 +0000

1. After picking some wild cherries in the park near our old house, I spend the rest of the day spotting where the juice has stained: near John’s ear in his sideburn, on the back of his shoulder, on the dog’s foot…

2. Lily’s tail tempo switches from thump-thump-thump to thumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthump when John moves into view. He plays peekaboo with her to hear the change and we laugh.

3. The leftovers combine beautifully – the spiciness of the noodles counters the potentially cloying sweetness of the chicken’s sauce.