The hour was late and feeling somewhat peckish I sliced a few slivers of cheese and placed them on a side table to nibble on while listening to a relaxing CD. Liquorice was sleeping soundly next to my chair undisturbed by my actions. Normally the silent sound of a knife slicing through moist cheese has Liquorice here at my side in an instant. Distance and deep sleep do not hinder her hearing on such occasions. Dreams filled with wonder must have lulled her senses.
However Keaton thought my movements worthy of investigation for he joined me a minute or two later as I returned to be seated in my chair with something appropriate to drink. So I sat forward in preparation of the young master’s arrival rather than start the CD player to playing. Where usually Keaton walks up to me for a mutual cuddle this time he apparently found my appeal lacking, for he stopped about three feet away, and diverting his eyes from mine breathed in, long and slow! Keaton did not look toward the cheese. No, his eyes, half closed, were cast toward the Heavens as in silent prayer giving thanks to some kindly God for an unexpected treat! Keaton slowly exhaled and again filled his lungs in an unhurried way leisurely drawing in the mild aroma of my snack. Keaton was now off in his own little world, fantasizing over the scent, totally entranced by its seductive lure. Slowly, in an absent-minded trance-like fashion, Keaton became seated, for there he wished to stay.
Liquorice slumbered on in rare silence, her dreams too, must have been of a kindly nature, for Liquorice snores. Her snoring is the stuff from which legends are made. No dainty musical notes for my little darling but thunderous eruptions as those that herald the doom of civilizations. For now though, there was silence, silence except for an unmistakable flapping sound coming from Keaton as he exhaled, or more correctly, expelled, through a closed mouth allowing his ample upper lips to flutter as flags in a strong breeze. Bliss and contentment were his, enveloping him completely. Enchantment reigned supreme in his little world. And that enchantment was shared by his Dad, enthralled with each slight movement of Keaton’s massive head, a nostril’s brief flicker, the slightest tilting of that great head or feint inclination of an ear. For Keaton was indulging all his senses, allowing each to be tantalized with this unexpected aroma. His soft coat seemed “relaxed”, giving off its own aura of pleasure. His ears moved slowly, as if listening to some wondrous symphony played on the harps of angels. When Keaton’s eyes would open they seemed dazed though filled with distant images of unutterable beauty. For those senses reflected the calm delight of the aroma that had brought rapture to the young master. Eyes half closed, Keaton raised his muzzle slightly and rolled the inhaled aroma around in his mouth. His lips puffing slowly like an ancient bellows, ensuring the that each and every taste bud enjoyed and equal portion of the heavenly scent so tangible for Keaton that the young master reveled in its flavor. He was like the connoisseur of fine wine sampling the bouquet, then rolling the rare liquid around his palate, savoring the moment. Such was the overpowering joy the young master’s features conveyed. Keaton was in his Heaven. His entire universe could be found wafting around his countless scent receptors, for at that moment nothing else existed!
Slowly Keaton’s huge frame gradually melted eventually finding him still trance-like stretched out on the carpet continuing to draw in the aroma that had reached deep into his soul. Before long those deliberate inhalations faded too, and as they faded Keaton’s massive head came to rest between suitably massive paws. Thus Keaton joined Liquorice in the land of slumber……………
Arthur Witten
Liquorice – I was dreaming of Danish Blue Vein!
Keaton – Who ate my cheese?