Liquorice was disturbed as she lay accepting her early morning session with the brush this A.M. She seemed torn between indulging her human as I busied myself with rake and slicker, and something out of my view. But then I was otherwise engaged while my little darling had time to spare in happy contemplation of her world. Liquorice suddenly raised her head peering skywards, rousing me from the trance-like state that the systematic and rhythmic grooming action induces, and had my eyes following her gaze. All I saw was a black crow pursuing a smaller black and white Magpie as it wheeled and careened about eluding the larger bird. Then a second Crow joined the chase. Seconds later as the Magpie swooped low near us then zoomed towards the heavens I saw that in its beak this Magpie held a sizeable bread-crust. It seemed clear the Crows felt that booty would do better filling an empty space in their tummies rather than left to satisfy the hunger pangs of a lowly magpie.
It was then that I realized Liquorice’s interest was not merely the academic interest of a spectator witness to a sporting contest. No. From the hunger in her eyes it was obvious that Liquorice aspired to be a participant in the quest for ownership of that much-prized bread-crust!
While she could not compete on an equal footing while her fellow participants were aloft, Liquorice could observe their tactic and be ever vigilant should that edible fall to earth. Liquorice would then be at that spot in a flash; every fiber of her being, every muscle and sinew now strained and primed, ready to instantly be unleashed in pursuit of the winner’s trophy!
Something in Liquorice’s concentration must have sparked a flicker of interest in the young master as he too focused weary eyes upon the acrobatic prowess of Liquorice’s avian friends. Only Keaton viewed the scene with an air of considered indifference. To Keaton it mattered little who won or lost the battle of the bread-crust, as in Keaton’s eyes more enjoyable pastimes were currently available. With workmanlike diligence, and a wholehearted enthusiasm that I envied, Keaton, with heavy head laden with even heavier eyelids, drifted back to his slumber.
However Liquorice was caught up in the chase and with a growing sense of urgency she watched anxiously as that Magpie led his pursuers through the sparse upper branches of some young Euaclypts and their tufts of leaves scattered here and there. As one Crow followed, the other wisely skirted around in an unsuccessful bid to wrest control of the coveted bread-crust with an out-flanking ruse. Liquorice observed the Magpie’s maneuvers with approval for she likes the friendly playful Magpies. The Crows refuse to play games with her or Keaton and make disgusting noises, unlike Keaton who now provided a musical accompaniment to the great chase choosing as his offering a familiar favorite, “Rhapsody of Snooze” in “z-minor”.
But in my little darling’s eyes food is food; it is valued, important, vital. That is not to imply that Liquorice gobbles and gulps her fodder for that is not the case. Liquorice savors every mouthful, getting the fullest amount of flavor and nutrition possible from each and every morsel. Keaton enjoys this same relaxed style of eating too. There is rarely a hurried moment in the lives of my two little darlings. Where food is concerned, to Keaton, sufficient is enough; whereas to Liquorice enough is never sufficient. Liquorice’s passion is her food with the emphasis on “her” food because Liquorice happily allows others to indulge their senses with things edible, appreciating the joys that even the humble kibble can bestow. She respectfully allows Keaton to eat unmolested from his food-bowl, or me from mine, though she is not above allowing hungry and searing eyes to drill painful holes in the consciousness of those dining when she is not.
Those beseeching searing eyes were now aimed at the possessor of the bread-crust, alas with little effect as that besieged Magpie then fled toward the heavily timbered windbreak, there to hopefully lose those dedicated to relieving him of his breakfast.
Liquorice seemed to mourn the loss as resignedly she relaxed allowing her head to rest peacefully then to dream of what might have been.
I continued brushing where I had left off.
Keaton snoozed with contentment.
Arthur Witten
Liquorice – I’m hungry.
Keaton – zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz