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Dear Katie,

Sunday 17 July 2011

Since you have a love of antiques, I thought this little story might interest you.
Ran into Willem, the antiques dealer here in town, when both walking our dogs. He has a huge crush on me of course, and that normally predisposes me favorably towards a person, as at least it demonstrates some good sense, or taste. But when he speaks, saliva doesn’t just fly in all directions, but positively dribbles down his chin. Which, at his age, I find rather absurd. (He’s in his thirties.)
And when a man crosses a certain line of unattractiveness, his crush no longer counts as a tribute, but becomes something of an insult. Don’t you rather agree?
That is the point where good taste may still be intact, but good sense is completely out the window. It’s as if I were to throw myself on the Dalai Lama, say – one should grasp that one doesn’t stand a chance in the world. It’s simply bad manners to maintain a crush on a person so far out of your league.
Me, I mean, out of Willem’s league – I give myself a fairly good chance of seducing the Dalai Lama, should I wish to do so. Granted, the poor pet lives a celibate life, but he wouldn’t be the first man I’ve come across who had to give up that lofty principle after running into me. In fact I’m only a couple of steps removed from knowing him personally, through Eunice and then dr Herissot the famous back doctor. (The Dalai has a hernia, probably related to meditating too much.) I don’t believe I’m being all that fanciful, thinking I could seduce the old dear. After all, if anyone can do it, it’s me. You know – I have half a mind to, just for the fun of it!
Anyway…where was I?
Oh, I wanted to tell you about Saliva Willem’s absurd dog theories. People will have their own firmly held dog theories, won’t they? He thinks it’s a big strategic error that I allow Barnaby to sleep on my bed, because that makes Barn the Pack Leader, and apparently this exposes me to all sorts of grave dangers. What a lark.
His dog, he proudly said, obeys him and ‘knows his place’. He looked very manly and firm, saying that – spitting and dribbling away, which rather ruined the effect. Well hurrah. As George is a mini-poodle, I’m not terribly in awe.
It’s really only the silliest of men who bring up all that Pack Leader nonsense, isn’t it? Well, except for Cesar Millan, I suppose. I rather like him. If he weren’t so inexcusably short, I might really like him. For a few nights, at most, that is.
We’ll talk antiques some more later,
much love, say hello to Robbie from me,
Lisa

3 comments:

Alan on 20 July 2011 at 16:30 said...

Hi Lisa!

Yet another interesting read--Thank You!

Anonymous said...

Darling Lisa,
Do report back on the Dalai's pillow talk. Your seducing him gives a whole different meaning to 'loving kindness'!
Anyway, I adore Cesar but am terrified of dogs. Whenever I encounter a canine creature in the streets, try as I might the calm and assertive posture, it never works. They start barking at me and try on their most menacing expressions. I guess I’m more of a cat whisperer, although definitely not a pack leader of the cats. Do cats have pack leaders, anyway?
Anny

Lisa on 22 July 2011 at 14:45 said...

My dear Anonymous,

Your comment delights me. "Loving kindness", indeed! I'm afraid I may just have to force that loving kindness on him, if he resists...

Ach, it is not important to be a cat or dog's pack leader. Just so long as you are your husband's pack leader. Remember: he deserves it! He will be far happier if you give him discipline first, affection next.

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