CSI Kitchen - The Jelly Baby Killer

What happened to this poor little fellow?

Perhaps he argued with the other jelly babies about which colour tasted best; perhaps his colour came bottom in a pole of jelly-baby-tasters; perhaps he was a sulky type and ran off to indulge his black mood in a place where no other jelly baby would dare to go; or perhaps littlest dropped him, and then kicked him under the freezer.

He has certainly been there for a long, long time. We have had the freezer for eight years; eight long years all on his own. An isolation long enough for him to sprout hair, have what looks like a toilet accident and decompose. Decomposition for a jelly baby appears to involve a rock-like rigor mortis and secretion of a powerful glue that binds firmly with the underlying tile.

However, a bit of glue and decomposition does not deter four-legged-friend, who bravely conquers both

And crunches up the crystalised baby!

Comments

Colour, Delacroix, flochetage and why don't we all have a go at inventing words

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My beloved boy, how lucky I have been

It's an odd thing that when we are waiting for someone to die ... and I say someone here even though the one in question was a dog - but to us he had character and a place forever in our hearts and was more of a familiar someone than some of the people in our lives. So, I'll start again - it's an odd thing that when we are waiting for someone to die, our senses go into overdrive. We notice things that normally would be part of the background of our every day. We breathe more - or rather, we don't but what we do is notice our breathing more, as we watch his. We pause. We think. We listen to ourselves and our inner voices speak. Memories flood our dreams ... though sleep is fitful. Why am I telling you this? ... ... we lost this beautiful boy today And in the hours before he went, I saw perfect spheres of dew on blades of grass - little orbs holding micro-images of our world; a bumble bee drunk on nectar, yellow-dusted with pollen, resting in a crocus; ten - yes, ten! ...

Walking, wondering and not walking at all

We all walk. I walk every day. I also lie. I don't walk every day, as in I don't take the dogs for a walk every day. Poor boys, in this season of tax returns and desperate seeking of extra work and working to pay the tax bill, they are the losers. Four-legged-friend was looking distinctly skinny in his hind legs, when I brushed his coat while he wolfed down his supper this evening (he tries to eat the brush if I take it near him at any other time, so meal times have become grooming times). Oddly, I lose out on the walking too, but this fails to have the same effect on my 'skinniness'... Anyway, we all walk. We walked on Christmas day - Littlest and I walked at the weekend - Slowly. Time to appreciate the trees. Time to encourage the smelly boys into the freezing water. Time for the sun to go down. Time to walk very, very slowly - Littlest's finger phone was engaged throughout in deep discussion with the zoo warden - da...

Walking The Dog

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