Sunday, December 23, 2012
Last night, my wife's manager hosted a holiday get-together for his employees. We had a lovely time eating great food, enjoying easy conversation, and hanging out with Oliver—his family's Fox Terrier.
For a few moments, Oliver and I accepted each other as equals. I told him that he reminded me of Nipper, the dog pictured in the erstwhile RCA Victor logo—the one with a dog sitting alongside a gramophone attentively listening to a faithful recording of "His Master's Voice." Oliver is not familiar with gramophones, or for that matter, record players. He politely listened to me talk about the evolution of audio recording until I had crossed a line. I'd forgotten my manners. He tacitly admonished me not to talk with my mouth full. A sensible dog, I am sure he lusted after my turkey and cranberry sandwich.
My wife and I woke up early this morning. She greeted me, "happy birthday." We chitchatted before rousing ourselves out of bed. I enlisted her to help me capture a studio photograph of our spastic Chiweenie. I wanted to capture an image of him jumping up off the floor as he does every day in our kitchen before his morning and evening feedings. Lately, I have been harboring an odd obsession to make photographs of dogs so they appear to be flying or levitating. My drowsy wife only consented to indulge my whim in the chilly studio prior to 7 a.m. because today is my birthday.
Naturally, the Chiweenie did not cooperate. We even substituted chicken for kibbles. A defiant dog, he would not leap from the floor towards the opened container loaded up with an odorous carcass. Perhaps our Chiweenie is a sensible dog who knows that if he gives us an inch, we will extract a mile.
The above photo shows me tempting the dog with chicken. I eventually dispensed with the container and waved the carcass over his head. Alas, he did not leap into the air to snag a chunk.
No matter how tempting the chicken, his hind paws remained firmly planted on the ground.
Finally, he performed a pirouette. I hope he will soon relent and give me the photo that I so desire. My dear wife, Sara, insists that we will have to train him to leap for food on command. She is right.
We retired to the kitchen. There she filled his stainless steel bowl with kibbles and carried it over towards his mealtime spot—a dark secluded corner in the kitchen. Boundless—lighter than air—the Chiweenie leapt spastically into the ether toward his meal just moments before Sara set it down onto the chilly white kitchen floor.