Henry's eyes have fallen out and H is insistent that I replace them at once, using 'super' glue if necessary. I demur as I believe Henry looks rather distinguished with just his sockets and anyway I am sure he sees perfectly well with his inner vision.
Are we both barking? Not as such. Henry is a metal dog gifted to me, by E naturally, as a Father's Day present last year. He has a large spring for a neck and seated on the terrace table nods wisely in the wafting breeze the day long. We exchange the odd little converse as I pass from kitchen to office and back again. I find his take on life just right - calm, unswerving, completely at peace with everything.
Quite suited to the outdoor life and far enough way from the 'real' dogs of the house not to scare them with concerns of an unwanted and unyielding canine competitor, Henry has survived four seasons unscathed. Apart that is from his glass eyes which have indeed fallen out. They lie at his feet - rather poignant really - as he gazes blindly and noddingly into the middle distance.
I shall do something to restore the full Henry. Henry's eyes must be returned him. Just not 'super' glue. Most undignified somehow.
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