This was going to be a soul searching blog about the difficulties of writing. Then I realised that was a load of boring old shit. Then I was going to do a “The Voting Is Almost Over” EU Referendum post dissecting my views about the EU Referendum campaigns. But that’s a load of boring old shit too.
This is Brecon The Dog.
She is thinking about one of her favourite things.
She loves catching them, slaying them and
Crunching on their little bunny bones,
While their adrenal hearts still beat.
She will savage bunny-kind.
She is 10 years old. Tempus fugit.
And has sore back hips,
which makes her a slow to rise and go.
She sights her bunny-scope, emancipated from old age,
She chases rapid-grey-cotton-garnished-strafing-bottoms.
Fortunately, for bunnies, she is not swift enough or well-sighted
To catch them in their flight.
Her few confirmed kills notched up,
Where rabbits choose to freeze, not flee.
Victimes de lapin dans les phares de chien,
serve a snack of rare delight.
As far as I know Brecon does not worry about politics,
or other human made ills.
She dislikes being left alone,
packs of dogs,
Her main concerns? Are there cats? Squirrels? Rats?
She likes food, rolling in fox mess, walks, the outside, sleeping and…