Sunday, October 14, 2012
Pitoux - the potters dog.
The annual pottery weekend in a local village. Bright sunshine brings out the crowds. Sixty stalls and three or four hundred people. Temperatures more like August than October. Some of the pottery with truly hefty price tags.
It could have been a disaster. Pitoux - the potters old, grey muzzled, heavily eyebrowed dog - proves to be highly territorial. The flouncing arrival of a large, fluffy, supremely arrogant Persian cat brings out the worst in Pitoux. One minute the old fellows under the table having his chin tickled, the next he's in full chase through the tressle tables. Hissing cat, barking dog, tottering ceramics. For a moment time stands still. Pitoux and the Persian locked in a noisy and risky navigation of the market place. Silence falls, the crowds sharing the same image of broken pots and irate potters.
With a heroic leap the Persian vaults a wall and disappears into the town hall garden. Pitoux , victorious, wanders arthritically back to his place under his masters table. One happy old warrior . Completely oblivious to the near chaos he's caused. A visiting lady in a crimson dress and white hat, probably Parisian, claps . Others join in. Pitoux has a look on his face that says '' this boys done good ". The potter attaches a rope to Pitouxs collar.
Thank God for dogs. Lifes natural ( and sometimes ever so slightly grumpy ) jesters.