It's coming to a year since I farewelled Baxter.
I feel him in the sunlight,
the way the breeze blows
and the spring/summer smells.
Since this is my blog,
I can post what ever I want,
and today I am remembering hound.
No need to comment.
He was found in a plastic bag, in a creek bed.
We lived up north then,
and despite knowing the farmer
who did this to him and his litter,
there was fear of reprisal,
so the guy was never prosecuted.
I became his mum after fostering him for two months.
On my birthday he trotted in with a ribbon and his adoption papers.
I knew nothing about dogs but he taught me.
We would walk in the bush every day.
his butt was a heart..
He got me out into the world,
a challenge after living with agoraphobia for two years.
The bush was peaceful and full of magic.
Baxter was ornery-
wild with dingo spirit pumping in his veins,
but he would pose with a tea cosy on his head
for Loani Prior, Queen of Tea Cosies.
He would disappear and go bush for days,
then pop up as if nothing had happened.
His life was beside me, and moving to Sydney was fine.
Less chickens to chase,
but he was OK with that.
The puppachino bar at Cafe Bones was a good place.
He has been painted and immortalized by famous artists.,
and was my assistant for guerilla knitting.
Not a fan of going to the vet...
and the namesake of this blog.
I know he is around, he's made that clear.
But today, it's a bit tough.
Now push yourself away
from your computer and go hug your dog