jmgoyder

wings and things

Aug 28

Beware of the dog: a cautionary tale

by jmgoyder

I wrote about the accident yesterday, naively thinking that if I regurgitated the stones in my throat, it might be possible to reach a place of calm, cathartic peace. How stupid was that!

The dog was here, again, its initial growl sounding like a lullaby until, once I had written my words down, it began to bark madly as if I had done/said something wrong. So I edited what I had written until the dog swallowed my extra words, until it attacked my thumping heart and painted it red with slices of stillness, until it put its big paw against my throat and whined until I woke up.

Jet black, this dog blends into the evening sky invisibly, sleeps in the pocket of the dark blankets around my feet at night, wakes me up every morning with the audacity of its sudden absence – not my best friend, not my worst enemy, but my closest companion.

Of course I hate the presence of this black dog, and its black eyes, and its black waving tail, and the black fur of its snuggly black snout but recently I have noticed the growing yawn of its absence. Hurray!

That dog was blocking out the sun with its big, dark presence, its ridiculous attempt to be a metaphor, its wolfish editorial antics. Beware of the dog.

I wrote about the accident yesterday, naively thinking that if I regurgitated the stones in my throat, it might be possible to reach a place of calm, cathartic peace. How wonderful was that!

Animal blogging Embarrassing moments Family Friendship Grief Happiness LOVE STORY Marriage Parkinson's disease Parkinson's disease dementia Teenagers

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Feb 13

Black dog (creative writing exercise)

by jmgoyder

It is nearly the middle of the night here, down in the southwest of Western Australia. There is a gentle breeze outside, which just turned boisterous (as if insulted by being called gentle), and a strange crackling of distant thunder. The humidity is the kind that makes you feel like your whole face has melted off but, when you check the mirror, your face is still there.

It doesn’t exactly look like your face though; it looks like a sad person’s face. Strange.

What you have to do is to schedule the tears so that they don’t disturb other people. The best place for this is in the bathroom late at night, or else outside under the moon, or else in the car when you are going to the shop to get milk.

In the shop you have to smile and be jovial and sociable – quite easy when you are a seasoned actor. Your eyes are moist because of your hayfever. You can even carry the act home with you and smile at yourself in the bathroom mirror, and put your hand up to join your reflected hand just to say hello.

When you finally go to bed with your book, and your new reading glasses, with the fan breezing your skin, and the light on, you know a little bit of happy. But you also know that, at exactly midnight, you will have to move over in your bed to make room for the black dog.

It is nearly the middle of the night here, down in the southwest of Western Australia.

Animal blogging Happiness

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