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May is almost over. Angelica and I are taking the bus to Seville today to join my sister and her husband, who are over for a short break. Unfortunately, Sammy can’t come with us. He knows something is in the air. Yesterday I gave him a haircut, and that’s a rare event. He stood very still, as he loves being combed and groomed. His coat is thinning, little wonder, he must be twenty. Angelica doesn’t know exactly how old. He started following her about eighteen years ago, before deciding he preferred living at her house rather than with the neighbour that mistreated him. We’re sending him off to the country to stay with a friend.
Angelica wants to do some sketches while we’re in Seville, and I’ll take photos and make notes for an article. We plan to go to the Sunday morning art market.
Sammy’s not difficult to look after, especially as he spends most of his days dreaming. He’s reluctant to go out, particularly if it’s raining. He doesn’t like getting his paws wet, he doesn’t like climbing up and down stairs and he doesn’t like walking on stony ground. It’s sometimes difficult to know what he does like. He certainly doesn’t like to be hurried, now that his bones are feeling the years, and most of the spring has gone out of his step, so we have to be very patient when taking him out. But there’s still a whole lot of wags left in his tail, so he must like something.
The sketch is several years old. Sammy sits in summer grasses on the other side of the river with Conil in the background. We don’t like to leave him, as we never know if he’ll still be around when we get back. Still, he’ll be in good company, surrounded by citrus trees and chickens, and well looked after; it’ll be his little holiday.
Copyright © 2015 Bryan Hemming
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