BLOG COMMENTS POWERED BY DISQUSThe introduction of Eddie to his new home would have to wait, as I had to get to Sydney on business, three hours behind the wheel. I had everything I needed for the dog, collar, lead, bowl and a half bag of dried puppy food. And so we went, Eddie comfortably settled on the passenger seat, grinning at me—probably thinking—“sucker.”It was while passing through Berry, a busy little town north of Nowra that something rather odd caught my eye on the passenger seat. Quick glances revealed a most peculiar prism of the rainbow that appeared to cascade from the seat into the foot-well. Blotches of green, yellow, brown and white, the very same kaleidoscope of colours of the puppy kibble. Eddie, the little bastard was carsick!No one told me about that.
That possibility never occurred to me. No wonder he was so quiet. I was more astonished by the enormous amount coming from such a small puppy.Stopping for lunch two hours up the road I discovered that chips produced the same result, only the colour changed. And so went the puppy’s equilibrium with little surprises that lasted for several weeks, and then some.I recalled that as a kid I always got carsick and so did my brother and sister—an extra dimension to the family outing.
And so it was that my mind drifted back to those days with Elizabeth when life was a picnic without the complications so reminiscient of my early days with Eddie. As I sat in the park, and on many ocassions in the coming weeks, I kept thinking about a time when I found out something that was otherwise a rather joyous time.The winter months in Montreal can be a drag. Days on end without sun can become depressing, a common malady well known to those from the sunny antipodes. Nevertheless, Elizabeth would stage indoor picnics to raise one’s spirits.The same tartan blanket spread on the bathroom floor with the hamper set on a stool. The edge of the bath at each end was adorned with a variety of coloured candles—“for the sunlight,” she reckoned. The Hi-Fi provided serious music, and, of course, Elizabeth’s favourite Tattinger Champagne at hand. To this day, I can never get into a bath without remembering those times. We would sit in that bath until our skin shrivelled up and threatened to peel from our bodies—two prunes on a Weetbix comes to mind.
Several months after our meeting I was at a motor parts supplier of mine when, completely by coincidence, in walked Elizabeth to buy something for her Porsche. Being the daughter of a diplomatic ambassador, Elizabeth had gone to boarding school in England and then finishing school in Switzerland. She was and knew how to be most diplomatic and proper in public.“Hello, neighbour,” was her greeting, followed by small talk. No one could have guessed the true nature of our relationship. I was thus ignored as an eager staff begged to serve the beautiful Elizabeth. Never mind the tens of thousands of dollars I spent with that company each year proving that men’s brains are not always in their skulls. Elizabeth soon got what ever it was she wanted, spun on her heel and bid all present, including me, her lover, a musical, “bonjour” as she swept through the door like a departing diva disappointing her adoring fans.The lads were left standing there, as if hypnotised as the door swung shut. One of the chaps broke the spell by calling me to one side and asked if I knew her. With a steady voice I told him she was a neighbour.“Do you know what she does?” he asked.“I think she works for a meat export company,” I said.“Have you ever seen her body,” was his next question.“Well,” I said hesitatingly, ready to bask in his envy should the need arise.“Do you want to see her body—all of it?” he came back with. I shifted feet and said that would be a real treat, but how could I do that?“Wednesday nights at the Lido—she’s a stripper. She’s got a dynamite body, you’ve gotta see her move.”
I didn’t say a word, I couldn’t.“Are you sure it’s the same person,” I finally asked?“Oh yeah, I’m sure alright; you don’t forget a woman like that in a hurry. They don’t let her dance down on the floor with the other girls, she’s the Queen, the main attraction; she does her thing in one of those caged platforms high in the air. “The yobbos can’t get to her up there,” he added.“No kidding?” I managed to say while trying to suppress an incredible disbelief—if not shock!It took me a while to come to grips with Elizabeth’s “other job” but that was my problem. That’s how she financed her Porsche and she did dance out of reach of the drunken lechers, I reasoned.Elizabeth knew what she was about and made good money, and took it all home with her. Tattinger, fine food and wines were her only vice. She was rare among that ilk.But was it true?Elizabeth would have no problems telling me of her stripping, if I wanted to know. But I didn’t.You must be wondering why I have told you this story about Elizabeth in a story about Eddie the Dog.Life is sometimes like an objet d'art where the beauty remains firmly in the eye of the beholder. A holistic appraisal is often safer for peace of mind than a scrupulous dissection that may reveal the unwanted.There is much wisdom in the old adage, “ignorance is bliss”.Happiness is a prized and often elusive commodity all too easily shattered.But, on the other hand there is another old saying, “knowledge is power.”It is one of life's greatest dilemmas. Ultimately, if you don't want the answer, don't ask the question.Perhaps that’s why I didn’t want to know why Eddie’s first owner returned him so quickly. I wanted to create a future with him, free of gossip or someone else's explanation of his past.Eddie and I would make our own journey and create our own history, just as I did with Elizabeth. But, this time I wouldn’t listen to stories from others. Eddie and I would create our own future together and, in the meantime, I had a sick dog and a business meeting to attend.Both needed my urgent attention.Until next week.Chaucer
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