Mr Leopold Bloom ate with relish the inner organs of beasts and fowls.
— James Joyce, Ulysses
Related by blood both to Angus and Peat, Bloom, finally, like the spring, has arrived.
It’s amazing our capacity for forgetting. The sudden shift of frame a puppy brings: Peat’s now the mature, even stately, one. I expected the butt-hurt, but not so much the kindness. He wants to, but isn’t sure he should, dote on Bloom. He’s on his way. But just the day before we got Bloom, Peat, age six, snagged and ate an entire extra-large Meat Lovers pizza.
Sioux is Peat’s father, and also Merci’s father, and Merci is Bloom’s mom. Custer, Angus’s nephew, is Bloom’s dad. Bloom is calmer by several furlongs than Peat was, and that I still remember. Leslie is doing her damnedest to be Bloom’s mother, and I’m trying to take a back seat. It’s wonderful to glimpse in Bloom the distant memory of Angus. He has that steady, rocking gait, already discernible in the rotund germ of his body. We weren’t sure it was such a good idea to be getting a puppy right now, but he’s been a welcome distraction from the horror of packing for a major move. Small packages. Goodness.
6 Replies to “Bloom One”
Just wanted you to know that we in Sacramento read your blogs and just love you two. My friends Caleb, Jon, Ed and Mark
Great photo 🙂
I’m not quite sure what to make of Bloom laying on his back like that.? He comes from a long line of weirdos though, all with different quarks that I could relay from being privy to living with his ancestors. From bipedal Custer, to handstanding Merci, from Sioux the foot sitter, pooping on bushes Sumac, and head bumping maybelle.
I’ve “owned” four Brittanys over the past 21 years. One was lazy but would come through and point a covey when you least expected it. She was totally mellow except when she came upon a coyote and turned into a German Shepherd attacking a thief. The other three were total pains in the ass for their first three years of their lives then with experience and exposure to lots of birds became bird seeking missles. Their evil puppy days seemed to be a predictor of bird hunting prowess. All three became (eventually) completely mellow at home and obsessed while hunting. Who knows what you have in store with your new pup. By the way, all four Brits “owned” me. No question they conned me into thinking I was in charge when they controlled the family bed, the food slipping from my fingers at dinner, and the necessity of climbing another outcrop of black lava when my lungs and calves were burning. After all, when the mutts signaled another covey lay just beyond the horizon I followed them. Who was in charge? Not I. May your sweet puppy, Bloom, bloom wherever he leads you.
Congratulations! What a special life Bloom will have to be a real dog, being who he was designed to be.
If anyone’s life is not made better by living with a new puppy, then they are hopelessly lost. Puppies bring joy for the soul and you both need that in this time of change.