Not Raebert. But exactly like him, It’s the deerhound way. Also the human way. Times we believe he doesn’t love. But he does. In his remote, mythic way. There’s the Tasmanian tiger yawn after what looks like coma. Then he kisses.
I took a video of Raebert’s magic eyes, which do not do red eye but blue eye. My wife posted it to Youtube with a deerhound tag, which despite the occasional wolfhound or Afghan intrusion, surfaced other deerhound videos. So I couldn’t resist one more post on the subject here. I was particularly taken by the one above.
His eccentricities continue, as if he’s inventing them to remain mysterious. His latest is pawing food out of his bowl and then overturning the bowl altogether. Not for me, but for the missus. He much prefers her Danishes and sticky buns, the last bit of her sandwiches, and every chip and sweet and hors d’oeuvre that emerges from the well stocked cupboard by her desk.
I think his all around insanity might be keeping us sane through some challenging times.
But I don’t want anyone to forget he’s not just a couch potato. He has all the physical capacity to do this too.
Not Rae, though I’ve seen him run… But this isn’t Deerhound Diary either.
It’s daunting to live with. Sometimes after an outing he comes bounding up the stairs at something like top speed. If he couldn’t stop on a dime, as he does, there would be broken bones.
Then he subsides. As I do after a strenuous post. 100 percent on and 100 percent off. Like a switch being thrown. I know the feeling. I guess the appropriate term is ‘extreme personality.’
Sorry for interrupting. Go on about your day.