Zacchi Fizzgig no longer trusts me. He sleeps under my bed in the centre, just out of my reach, so I can't drop disinfectant onto him when he is sleeping. It is a weird sensation when your mattress starts to growl at the same time as the fireworks explode below you in the valley!
This morning Zacchi resisted peanut butter toast crust (his favourite) because he sensed that the new packet from the chemist, delivered to the gate this morning, was for him.
He has reduced the self-harm licking and biting to almost zero. It is a cautious truce; we watch each other like hawks. He doesn't know that I am going to London next week to the preview of the NZ Society art exhibition. We will cross London bridge when the time comes.
For now it is more peanut butter crusts... for me!
The work that is in London:
Drat! That work really doesn't photograph well. Ah well... it's all vanity anyway!
Here is the original collection... May 2005.
PS: On re-reading this I quite like, in a strange kind of way, the integration of a scruffy dog and his nuisance wounds, fireworks in the Liri valley, peanut butter toast and London art exhibitions. It's a bit like life really; it's only when you separate things out that they become even remotely glamorous!
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