On Thursday evening, I fed the dogs. This has been an extremely unlikely event to occur over the last ten months, as I have been working at my “other life” during the week, only seeing how the Limery is shaping up on Facebook and at weekends. In those ten months, I have helped map and transfer data from an old computer system onto a new one, and Auguste has become a Facebook Cooking sensation*.
Now, the project, or at least my contribution to it, is finished. It has been a slightly strange experience, really quite frustrating in many aspects but I am a) proud of the Mapping Tool I developed and b) glad it is all over. Still, I am caught between the relief of finishing and the sorrow of leaving behind (once again) people and places whose company I enjoy.
Sam and Max (the dogs, not the cartoon crime-fighting duo) gave me pause (paws?) for thought. As usual, once the bowls were on the floor, Max bowed his head and didn’t look up again until his dish was as clean as the day we bought it. Even when he had his hearing, it was the same: eyes down and eat, like your life depended on it, as if one glance away and the food would as magically disappear as it had appeared, mere seconds before.
Sam, on the other hand, started to eat and then noticed a fly, on its way to wherever it is flies go at that time of day (5:30 p.m. Is that kicking out time at a fly’s work?). She snapped at it, presumably thinking that she was better than the carnivorous plants now in residence in the Limery.
The fly, bored with its hard day’s labours at the Fly paper factory (apparently it is easy to get stuck in the job there, but it is for life), circled round for another look. SNAP! “One more time”, thought the fly, “then it’s back home for tea. Thursday night is dog-poo night!” Round it went, like a 747 stacking over Gatwick, or possibly that one piece of luggage doomed to circulate around a baggage carousel forever. SNAP! It may be the fly giggled as it flew off, clearly having had enough dog-based fun for one day.
For all I know, that fly is still out there somewhere. Or perhaps our meat-eating plants snaffled it the next day. Either way, it served to make me think.
Am I a Sam? Do I snap at the potentially interesting things whilst ignoring the good stuff? If Sam had caught that fly, would she have found it tastier than the meat in front of her**?
Am I a Max? Head down, enjoy what is there, assume that it can be no better than this?
Well, no, I think I am a mixture of both. Sometimes I snap at a fly which turns out to be unreachable or, worse still, reachable but quite, quite unpalatable. Sometimes, I snap at a fly and it turns out to be delicious. Sometimes I write about dog food and flies and still end up feeling hungry.
Are you a Sam or a Max or a mixture?
* Well, to me and the five other people who noticed.
** The answer to that had better be a resounding “NO!”