Somewhere to play.

Bad habits and people ...

For those who care; this is Friday, the end of the month of May, and the beginning of a new era.

I have started this new habit of jotting down notes on which to expound and or build a new story line.

And then the last few entries went away ~ gone ~ astray ~ and a few more synonyms ...

Now I have to search my mind what the 'notes' were about (there is no appropriate punctuation for this situation)

Recalls something about old age, and, and, there, I remembered one ...

The hounds from hell ...

now for the other -

The Basset, called Dirk:

He came back; like a hound from hell, he spent the first day spying, laying low, looking at the lay of the land, and then he settled in and down.

The first night, not a peep from Dirk, the Basset - then - night two; he started early; sniffing and baying the soil's aromas.
Telling us about the colors which flowed out into his mind, visions imprinted by generations of breeding, the supreme stalker.

It is said that a dog relates to scent as a human would see color.

They, the breeders, added the ability for the basset hound to advertise his great feat, very loud and clear, and for a very long period - such as all night long.

And deep down in my primal brain, the baying registers and wakes the primitive hunter in me.

How must I sleep ?

The one wants to run along the beast and join in the hunt, and the civil man screams out about tomorrow being a day for work, and the call of the wild wins the day.

Sleep passes the mind, a dull person starts the next day.

Dark thoughts see the hound the next day, and him - why - he is as pleased as can be, he did all night that which he has been bred to do.

He is so pleased, and I know, another night of this, and the hound might not see the next day.

Off to his owners he goes, and he sees me as the traitor I am, for he has tried his best to please me, and I turn my back on his best, and I feel like the rats he seeks.

If one has not followed the thread, this Basset belongs to my neighbor and the dog decided to adopt me ...

And those eyes, adoring, looking at me and begging, and there is no way I can reciprocate.

Dirk was returned to his owner, and his future is a question as the owner is not the most responsible person, and I still feel like a heel.

Books

I keep adding more, how can I say 'no' to such treasures as those which feed my vice, books and more books.

I trimmed the latest set off with their own bookcase, and then for good measure, balanced the set with a set of Kipling by its side. Both sets may need a few stragglers, maybe that set of Dickens would round this off so well ... maybe - resists, bites the pencil(bullet), goes for cold turkey - Dickens calls to me ~

Nappies and such like:

The riddle starts something like this;

It starts on its back, then on fours, then two, then fours again, and back on its back.

What is it ?

It is the cycle of man.

There are other forms of this riddle from way back, and some even mention 'nappies' and 'three'.
Be it as it may, the cycle starts and ends, man's fate is in the hands of whatever force he believes in.

“If you pick up a starving dog and make him prosperous he will not bite you. This is the principal difference between a dog and man.”
― Mark Twain

and I have bitten the DOG, and I feel less of a creature for that - and I acted within the law - (in my own defence ...)