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Thursday, November 17, 2005

Dog Welfare for a Better Health

The dog next door doesn't get sick so much anymore, so I let it in to my house for the first time in months. Now if I was depressed the little dog would be black of course. However the dog is white, therefore I must be happy. Very happy, in fact. I wonder how little black dogs describe having a depression?

Once upon a time, in a life long lost, I knew a girl who postulated that white dogs did white poos and darker dogs eliminated darker substances. Not being overly knowledgeable about the welfare of dogs' digestive systems, I was easily convinced by her. Of course this might have been more related to her being a rather attractive blond. And also that blond was probably the color that best described her own eliminations.

But it's the blond that is the hair of the dog next door I want to talk about today.

Sweaters That Knit Themselves

Being a devout follower of how to live the artist's life, you will already be aware of my fantastically tortuous method of preparing meals. Well the dog next door has brought a similar happiness to life. Moodily - and happily so, I feel I must emphasize - dressing in dark clothing mostly of wool, I find myself not only covered in Pythagoras' - for that is the little blighter's name - hairs, but I am completley enmeshed with them. It's as if they have knitted themselves into my wool wear.

Sweaters That Knit Themselves

But why happiness you ask? Well if I were simply coverd in hairs I could merely grab some tape - scotch, sello, duct, masking, electric - and apply it until not a hair remained. Once upon a time in a life lost before my earlier lost life, I watched a woman do this very successfully to her fine-knit skirt of clinging black wool. Entranced, I just about managed to get the words out where I pointed out to her - helpfully, I felt - that many people would be very willing to pay money to watch her do this. Broke as I was, she continued until the last of her blond hairs was removed.

Art Takes Time

No it's not the wonderful memory that I am presently grateful to Pythagoras for - though that is a pleasant bonus. No. It's the time it takes me to manually de-hair my clothing.

Pythagoras Theory

A less patient artist would probably switch their wardrobe to a paler variety, perhaps white itself, and thereby in an instant seem so much happier to the world and indeed with the world. But it would be fraudulent. A Theory of Pythagorean Happiness based on color and camoflage. I however, could not be happier. Dressing still in black and navy, or for those frivolous nights, a very dark purple, I first get to spend three to four hours hand-plucking individually little white hairs from between the stitches. We choose our tediums. Oh look, there's a white poo on the white carpet.

Paul Dorrell says:

"Depression is a common malaise, even more common among artists"


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