There’s a much-used Italian word – ‘furbo’ (feminine form ‘furba’) which means sly or smart depending on the context.
It’s basically what Florence is, as demonstrated by the photo.
She was due this morning to be sterilised, but the only way to get her into the car is to bribe her to jump up with a bowl of food.
Since she had to have an empty stomach for her operation, this device wasn’t possible.
So what happened? She saw straight through all my pretences, flatly refused to co-operate, and we had to cancel.
Clive is silhouetted against the light from his lamp as he plays his keyboard.
He doesn’t play carols, but he has one faithful singer.
Taylor regularly accompanies him with soaring whoops like a one-dog wolf pack.
Sometimes the other two dogs join in, and then I wonder what the neighbours think 300 metres away.
Florence has been on heat for two weeks now.
The day before yesterday it all went up a notch and poor Galileo was unable to either eat or sleep and paid her constant court whenever we let him.
Florence is more importuned by him than anything. Taylor would probably be more to her taste (and size) but fortunately for us he’s not in the market.
This is an unusual photo in that Galileo and Florence are on the sofa together.
Normally it’s either one or the other, with the privileged position being vigorously defended.
Galileo was lying next to Florence until he saw me get my camera.
I’m not exactly certain what ‘bedroom eyes’ are, but I think Galileo must have them.
Maybe it has something to do with the fact that he regularly sleeps on the bed.
Florence and the car don’t get on together too well.
When we were due to take the dogs to kennels the night before the CT scan in Milan, I put her supper in the back of the car to lure her in but all she did was jump in and out like she was on a spring.
In the end Clive held her steady on a lead over his shoulder from where he was sitting in the front passenger seat while I booted her onto the rear seat before tying her with another lead to the dog guard behind.
It was a long-drawn-out episode which I’m anxious to avoid.
Therefore I’m starting a regime of giving her all her meals in the rear of the car so as to make it a comfortable space for her. I’ll gradually get closer so she’s OK eating with me near enough to shut her in. Then I’ll shut her in for a brief time, then longer, and so on.
At least that’s the plan.
This is the sofa opposite Clive’s bed.
There’s no doubt that it’s comfortable, but there also seems to be a great deal of prestige attached to sleeping on it.
Both the dogs insist on occupying it alone, and will drive the other off.
How come they’re both on it now, you ask? Well it’s because I was squeezed between them till a moment ago, acting as a buffer, and then slipped away leaving them fast asleep!