For the first time since I’ve known him, my dog has a cold wet nose.  Wasn’t too keen on breakfast, though.  Not sure if it was because it was something different or because it was out in the hall rather than in the kitchen, where he keeps jumping on the tables and stuff.

I’m not sure how old he is.  Sometimes he is all puppyish and then he’s like a weary old dog who’s had enough of trying to make a good impression to be loved, fed and safe.

One minute he kisses, next he grabs your hand and I think he thinks I’m his next meal.  I’ve got bruises all over my arms and hands.

He is fine on the lead.  Absolutely no problems.  He’s really excited this morning.  he must find me a real pain because I haven’t gone along with him and taken him out yet.  I got up about 9.30 and while I was in the kitchen he went to the loo on the carpet in the next room.  Everything.  He’s been in the hall all night, why couldn’t he have gone then?  Why did he hold it in the hall and let rip on the carpet?  I imagine the last tenant kept his dog in there as well, by the state of the matting, and the rest is concrete.

He was funny out last night.  He cocked his leg at everything tall and straight.  He growled at a man who was passing my house as we went out.  Not sure what the story is there.

I’ve got Brian Eno on, Before and After Science, By This River.  I’ve just rediscovered another song which, now, touches me emotionally in the stomach.  Courtesy of an old boyfriend, back in college days.  Have gone back into wanting to cry mode.  It is so beautiful and powerful, to me.  The end of the album is very meditative and reflective. 

Being stalked, though, I hardly dare play anything, because my neighbours get it all back and they say, ‘it is, it’s her, it’s her’, and I wonder what the heck else they are hearing, and I get scared.  UK was the same.  On the other hand sometimes I think they want a show, and if I keep giving it I’ll never recover any privacy.  My neighbours are as excitable as the dog, and my house is a mess, I’m a vegan, I don’t speak their language, I feel fragile and uncertain, as well as desperate and angry myself, and their only volume level seems to be stuck on shouting, whether in anger or anything else.

I should have got a dog a lot earlier.  I like it.  I was silently emitting distress signals last night, fear, to be precise, and he ran to me and licked my face and lay beside me.  This man had whistled outside my house, to my mind as if he was calling a dog, and my dog responded.  He ran to see what it was about, and I was pleased that the appropriate creature had been there to counter my own response, but then, as I said, he ran back to me as soon as he felt my state.  That’s how it seemed, to those of you who are so bookbound you’re not willing to countenance this kind of stuff.  Those of you who stick perfectly sane and rational people in hospital just because you are frightened of or offended by the power of their emotions when they have been mishandled and you don’t want to deal with the perpetrators.  Shame on you!

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