Friday, July 29, 1988

Ballur the Dog in love

19 July 1988

We live alone on the farm. Ballur the Dog has developed a strong master craving and follows me everywhere.
Predrag is a bore
Predrag is a boring bore
Predrag is the boringest boring bore

But Ballur the Dog is charming and very doggy in temperament - he is an Icelandic sheepdog, and he a very happy dog who seeks my company irrespective of how boring I might be. We are a very active couple, sharing passion for swimming, running, and avoidance of other human company.

Paris! Par rires, as Rablais claims the etymology is. It is very enchanting, and still, I feel like a mouse there. New York, one feels like a rat. Here, on the farm, I feel content. The truth is, I am very happy to spend weeks and months without human contacts, but it is almost impossible - they stream in, the humans, even on the farm.

Here life is as always - it seems impossible to do 1/10 of the things one expects oneself to be able to do. Even with Ballur there is psychology - he objects to sleeping outside, so he woke me up at 3 am, rotating in a strangest of dog hysteria ways. We had a talk and a little walk, and I was allowed to sleep again.


29 July 1988

I still do not what he wanted. I got up this morning - Ballur says woof! and then sits in front of me, looking me right into the eyes, expectantly, as though I have a large cut of beef between my eyeballs. Usually he wants to run out into the court, but not today - I open the door, but he just follows me again. Watches me brush my teeth.

What is it? Did I forget to feed him yesterday? I rattle his dog food bucket, but he just keeps looking intently into my eyes.

Piss? Shit? Brushing my teeth, we walk into the seeping rain and out of the farmhouse onto the track across the wheat fields. He just dogs me - no crap, nothing. We go back again, an he will not let up; just sits in front of me, expectantly, totally focused on me, with that swooning look of the woman from Midsummer Night Dream who got love potion rubbed over her eyelids.

Could it be? Could it be? oh, no! the dog is in looove. Ballur, you know we cannot go steady - I will have to move back to the city....