Saturday, March 26, 2005
"Jones!"
The Landlord’s dog ‘Jones’ is a little muscle bound bull dog type, tree brown and short legs. It takes tremendous force when pulling on its lead to stop it going where ever it wants to go. I run around the house going to and fro, following the scent of food scraps hidden in places only dogs would put their nose. It runs around like an iron ball in a pinball machine. At certain points it has weird fits of sobbing and then suddenly recovers!(emotionally unbalanced). It does not have fur or hair but sand-blasted skin, stroking it is a kin to running your hand over those miniature landscapes they make the model trains run around. Unnaturally hard and solid, he is a constantly moving, tightly knitted bundle of meat and bone chugging like an engine. His mouth pattering hot air mechanically across a leather like tongue, frontal section dipping along floor level to lap up sweet corn hiding behind the legs of the sofa. I hesitate to pull harder on the lead in case I block its air valvs. Landlords wife says; “He’s lovely with the kids.”
