I recently saw the brilliant short documentary called 'Last Minutes with Oden' and it moved me to tears, or at least a tear. It made me remember that often in life a lot of things are taken for granted and it's usually only through the loss of said things that we're made aware of this.
Check out the documentary...
It made me think of my dog Chip...
When trying to find out more about a person's character a question that is sometimes asked is whether they prefer dogs or cats. Like are you an Elvis or Beatles person? (See the deleted scene from Pulp Fiction...)
I'm more of a dog man myself and this quote pretty much sums up my stance on the issue...
There's been many dogs in my life. Now that I think about it, there's always been a dog for as long as I can remember. There's been Sandy (Labrador), Barny (Labrador/Staff cross), Jessica (Collie), Alfie, Molly and Harry (English Cocker Spaniels), Stanley (Jack Russell) and finally Chip (Jack Russell/Daschund cross). There was Kelly too, although not technically a Canine, she was a dog nevertheless, a bitch of the Stoke Newington breed if my memory serves me correctly.
Sandy was the first dog I remember, he belonged to my Nan and Granddad and, like them, Uncle Sandy was a genius, a true scholar of a dog.
Among other things, he knew when it was dinner time just by listening to what was on T.V. When the theme tune to Neighbors came on he got up and strolled into the kitchen. But the truly clever thing was that it was only on the sound of the closing credits that he got up. He distinguished between the beginning and ending of the programme, knowing full well that dinner would be served only when Neighbors had finished.
Never has a dog eaten so well. A funny thing about my Nan was that when dinner time was approaching we'd start smelling these wonderful aromas drifting in from the kitchen, like rich, thick gravy and perfectly steamed vegetables. Then she served it up... in Sandy's bowl! Only after Sandy was content with his lot would she start cooking our dinner, which was delicious nonetheless, but I always wondered how good a mouthful from Sandy's bowl would taste.
Sandy also had a bowl of tea in the morning and, being the gent that he was, he always smelt of the Hugo Boss aftershave Elements. I later figured out that the only explanation for this was that it had rubbed off from my Granddad's hands. I was bitterly disappointed that Sandy didn't apply the cologne himself.
I've since tried to find Elements but I think its been discontinued. The closest I've come to smelling something similar is Dior's Fahrenheit, which I was once given as a birthday present in my early teens and now evokes memories of swings, cider and B&H Gold. Elements was a lot more subtle (and nicer) but I guess it has the same base ingredient.
Probably better that I don't smell it anyway, I'd probably have another relapse into childhood. Like when I smelt marzipan for the first time since nursery school, but that's another story for another day.
When from a long-distant past nothing subsists... the smell and taste of things remain poised for a long time... and bear unfaltering, in the tiny and almost impalpable drop of their essence, the vast structure of recollection.
Marcel Proust, The Remembrance of Things Past
