Doggone

Sad blog today.
Mimi just left town to live in Belgium with a charming young couple who already have a dog called Che, whom they practically carried from Burgos to Santiago.
I would like to put a pic of Mimi in this blog, but I am too stupid to know how. However, there is one in the entry for May 23rd.
But, rather than repine, I am consoling myself with the extraordinary fact that we have been so lucky with our animals.
We had three dogs, (we still have two) all strays, and all - without question - the finest dogs anyone ever had. We have three chickens, unquestionably the best in the world, equable and gregarious, and a canary who is the greatest warbler since Jussi Bjorling ( I have no doubt spelled that wrongly, and have certainly left off the two little dots over the ´o´) And in Pennsylvania, we had the world´s two nicest ferrets.
So, it is blessings counting time.
But, still. I did nearly cry when I handed Mimi over.
Tomorrow, I will take the furries over to Terradillos de Los Templarios to see my donkey friend there and give him, or her, a carrot and an ear-scratch.

Bullshit, brooding and bullfights

This just in:

¨Mugabe must not be allowed to steal the election,¨ said George Bush yesterday. Yes, that´s right, he actually said that, without blushing and with a straight face. If you can do the same, you should consider a lucrative career in politics. In a funny way, I shall miss George. He transforms words like, ´brazen,´´ shameless,´ and ´squalid,´ into some sort of compliment.

On to other things..

We have had quite a handful of pilgrims around in the last few weeks. One couple arrived, had a cup of tea and a rest and a chat, then set off again about half an hour later. The lady thanked us and said it had been a ´privilege,´ to visit us. I said I wouldn´t quite put it that way myself, but thanks.
I am still brooding on what she meant. But other pilgs, and friends on the web, have remarked on how wonderful life here seems to be. Perhaps it is. I am too close to tell.

.. and more things..

It is certainly an easier life than Jose Tomas, now accepted without question as the greatest torero since Manolete, is having these days. He does get about 400,000 euros (bullfighters´pay should really still be reckoned in pesetas, but I can´t do the math) for each corrida, but he earns every centavo.
If you go to the El Pais website for today, Monday, (under Culture, of course) you can see a clip of Sunday where he was awarded three ears and was gored three times, ´gravely,´ according to the surgeon. The week before, he collected four ears. I don´t really approve of bullfighting nowadays, but, if you are going to do it at all, do it right. And this is what Tomas does. He ends up every time with more blood on him than Peter O´Toole´s Macbeth. It is frightening to watch, even on video, when you know what is going to happen.
He is unlikely to finish the season at this rate.
In fact, he will be fortunate to survive the season.

A Day in the Life

It ought to be easy to write a blog each day. Only takes a minute or two ( it says here)
But I see it has been a week since the last dose. So.
In case anyone still wonders what we do here, I will describe yesterday, a fairly typical day, though no two are the same.
Woke rather late, as last evening we had driven a couple of pilgs, who have a dog, to Burgos - where they will start walking to Santiago. They drove here from Belgium, where, conveniently, being Belgians, they live. They are young, 30-ish and the dog is a wacky Jack Russell. Una tried to kill it as soon as she saw it, which does not bode well for us as a house of welcome for pilgrims with animals in tow. We have yet to receive a horse or donkey. We shall see. The Belgian´s backpacks are too heavy as they have to lug a tent along because many pilgrim hostels will not take dogs. They will have problems.
But I am getting off track. I made coffee about eight, fed the hens, collected the customary three eggs, took the cover off Bob, and fed and watered him, and hung his cage on the well head, and he warbled his greetings.
Checked the Yahoo and Guardian and El Pais websites for the latest world lunacies- yesterday including the trainer of Big Brown blaming the jockey after the Belmont fiasco -and read my email. Sent off 30,000 pounds to a nice man in Nigeria (no, that is a joke).
Took the three dogs over to the Hare Field - an area of uncultivated land about a mile away. They go in a gang, hunting rabbits and whatever they can find. Luckily, this day, no lifeless local fauna were brought back for my admiration. One day the furry fools killed what looked like a small weasel, which made me unhappy, but they are dogs, after all.
Back home about an hour and a half later.
Then Reb and I into our monos (see pic) for a spot of labouring. We mixed up some concrete and patched a couple of holes on the outside wall of the house. This went well and was pleasing.
I am also in the process of ruining a perfectly good piece of board trying to do a painting. I want it to be everything, controlled, free, detailed, ambiguous, vague, precise, dramatic, tranquil, meaningful, meaningless. Naturally, is is none of these, except possibly the last. This is not pleasing.
I have more luck with the new cooker, which works by induction. These must be the greatest cookers ever, although I don´t really understand how they work. Something to to with magnetism, it seems. The response is instant. I made a nice paella dish. The rice was just right, but the squid in the seafood was a bit too chewy. Do not know how to deal with that yet.
The weather continues unstable. One or two thunderstorms either arrived or threatend during the day. At just after five, we went to Sahagun to shop and watch the Spain- Russia game. In fact, I headed straight to the bar while Reb shopped. This is unusually sexist for me these days, but I wanted to see the whole game.
Spain won handily, but their defence is suspect and they may not get as far as the fans here hope and expect.
Came back about eight, listened to more in a series of lectures from Berkeley University on Dante´s Divine Comedy, via the net.
Very interesting and thought-making, but for a comedy, there are not many laughs. One or two chuckles about Hell, though.
Cleaned up in one of our two splendid new bathrooms, and hopped into our big, comfy new bed.

Life is Unfair

Now we are living like normal folks in our shiny new house, the rules for dogs have changed, radically and dramatically.
Tim and Mimi are banned from entering . Una is allowed in the living room/kitchen, but can no longer sit on chairs or the new sofa. This has caused dog consternation. Una swans smugly about the room as the other two huddle on the threshold watching in disbelief and envy. They can put their heads in, but must keep their paws outside. No, it´s not fair. The main reason Una is privileged is because Reb and I feel a bit guilty about introducing Mimi into the family. She is making a powerful attempt to become top dog and has youth and ambition on her side. She will soon have the weight and muscle as well. Una exploits her situation by waiting until we are not looking, then jumping onto a forbidden bit of furniture.
But we had to lay the line down somewhere. All three go out hunting and rooting around in the fields every day for hours and come back coated in mud, and sometimes with ticks. This kind of carry-on was, and is, tolerated in the old kitchen, but it has to stay there. It is hard most of all for Tim, who is not happy unless he has his head on my knee, but the weather is finally clearing up, according to the forecast, so I will be in the yard with him most of the day. I don´t know what we will do with the furry fools in the winter, but that is months away.

Also at home in the yard are the swallows who have made a nest in the barn, and are learning that they have nothing to fear from us. They sit on the clothes line communing with Bob the Canary whose cage hangs from the well-head during the day.

Tomas, the Dutch Croatian will be finished today and will leave for France tomorrow. He has been a great help and a good guest as well, always finding something nice to say about my cooking, which is often more than I can. Today, I will cook a rabbit.

In House

Yes, we are in our new/old house after a year of waiting. We spent last night in our new bed. It was comfortable. I showered in the new bathroom upstairs. The taps, like all Spanish taps, defy logic. I suppose in time I will work out which is hot and which is not. It also seems that you have to turn the left-hand one to the right to turn it off, but the right-hand one to the left. Or vice versa. I think But, eventually, hot water flows and the day´s dust is washed down the drain.
The internet is still connected up in the old kitchen where we spent most of the past year, so we are not fully installed yet, but things are looking up.
The weather is unseasonal. Chilly and wet for weeks now, it seems, with June due in a day or so. The dogs are even dirtier than usual from hunting forays in the Hare Field.
Now I am going to start cleaning up the American´style kitchen/living room while Reb gets the dogs dirty for the day. The prospect excites them.

Vote, or else..

No, it´s not about Obama!

Rebekah, my wife, has been short-listed for a Best of Blogs award.

The website involved is, for some odd reason, called:

www.thebestofblogs.com.

Once you´re in there, scroll down to "Best of Travel and Leisure" blogs and check the box next to "Moratinos Life." Vote early, vote often. And if you want to know what you are voting for, Reb´s blog is to be found at

http://moratinoslife.blogspot.com/

Most of you know this already. Anyway, if you don´t, you should go and read it and then go to the best of blogs site and vote for it. Or else, see below...

VOTE FOR MORATINOSLIFE


OR WE WILL SEND YOU THIS DOG

Animal Farm, eventually

Having three dogs can be hard going. They are everywhere, under your feet, on every chair, shouting at callers and workmen, squabbling with each other. Yesterday, Tim, normally the mildest of dogs, set about another local dog, a puppy called Luna who seemed to have done nothing to deserve it. A worrying sign. Maybe it had something to do with him managing to catch a full sized rabbit earlier in the day, but I doubt it. And I am not sure if he actually caught the rabbit, as the first I saw was him racing along with it hanging out of his mouth with Mimi alongside trying to wrest it from him. Maybe he just found the body rather than caught it. Then both dogs vanished for over half an hour, but I could hear them barking way off somewhere among the pines.
All this took place in what we call the Hare Field, an area of uncultivated scrubland full of gullies and ravines and crittur holes. It is the dogs´ favourite place. When the two returned I was relieved to see they had disposed of the corpse and were not covered in blood, so they had not apparently torn their victim to bits.
Una all the while was close by me, unusual for her, but she has been a little subdued recently. We think Mimi´s relentless attention is getting to her.
Anybody need a dog?

Also yesterday, two pilgs turned up with a donkey looking for Reb (the pilgs, that is, not the donkey.) Unfortunately, she had gone off to Sahagun. Anyway, when I opened the front door, the dogs all ran out and began barking at the poor beast, who had earlier been attacked by other dogs, and bitten, so we were told.
We would like to put up pilgrim animals such as donkeys and horses and dogs, but this was not a promising start. The two pilgs quickly assured me they were on their way to Sahagun and did not need to stop.
One of our neighbours told me on Sunday that there was a small donkey for sale in Sahagun right now, with very few miles on it.
We would like one of our own eventually, but maybe eventually never comes.

We have also thought about getting a goat, and went as far as buying a book on the subject. This, for 10 euros, or so, was a good investment, because I keep the book in the bathroom and read it when I am at stool. Every time I look at the impressive and illustrated list of horrible aliments that can befall a goat, the idea of owning one goes straight back onto the eventually list.
Last night we went to Sahagun to watch the Manchester United - Chelsea game.
When we arrived at the bar, the TV was showing bullfights from Madrid. One minute a noble bull vomiting blood from its nose, then a quick channel flip to Sir Alex Ferguson in a spectacularly horrible shiny suit.
There was something quintessentially Spanish about it all.