I lay in the hot bath while Rigby hovered nearby. Early days when he was small he would jump up on the side of the bath and peer in, his ears floppy but half-cocked with curiosity, occasionally dipping his head to lap at the bath water until I would shoo him off. He is much bigger now but the bath exerts the same fascination for him. One day I was running a bath when I heard a sound from the bathroom – Rigby had jumped into the tub and been surprised at the heat of the water pouring and given a brief yelp. He is bigger now – he has tripled in size since I got him – and stands by the bath looking in, ever ready for an opportunistic lap of the water. I don’t like him that close, don’t like him drinking the water, don’t enjoy the tranquility of the bathtub – ‘me’ time – being disturbed by Rigby seeking my attention. If I leave him out though he will scratch at the door seeking entrance – he doesn’t like to be where I’m not – and the impost in the end is relatively minor.
I like to think a hot bath is a Saturday afternoon luxury. Today it was that and a whole lot more. Since I got sick last year I’ve lost a lot of what was once pretty good flexibility. In recent times I have begun to exercise to regain it. The problem is not in my hamstrings, but in my lower back. I have taken to stretching, taking it a little further each time, pushing it perhaps a bit too far. In consequence I am now very stiff and sore, and have the stiff-backed posture of a man which every movement is potentially painful. So I lay in the hot bath reading a book while Rigby looked on, my muscles slowly relaxing and some movement came back to me.
I am now dressed to go out, sitting at my desk as it grows dark outside. My hair is still damp, my feet still bare.Time enough. No lights are on in the house and the screen glows in the dim room. It seems very quiet around, pleasantly so. Every so often Rigby will wander over to check on me. Occasionally he will leap up with his paws on the arm of my chair and look at me with a dignified but insistent air, demanding my attention. At such times he is like a little man with a distinct personality and mind of his own. He makes me smile and stop for a moment to give him a pat, before returning to this. He is a spoiled boy to have his master home so often, and so close to him.
I feel a little tired, much as you often are after a restful bath. It is a pleasant feeling all the same. My days and nights are busy so there is good cause to be a little weary, but I look forward to going out, and know that I am lucky to have so many interesting things to do.
Earlier today I attended a cooking course in Bentleigh. Tuscan Cooking was the title of the course. There were eight of us gathered in the home of the instructor, an accomplished and reasonably well known expert in Italian cooking. It was fun. Cheeseboy and I did it together, often working as a team as we prepared the variety of dishes – a chicken involtini, home made pasta, and a almond chocolate cake. The food was lovely, and surprisingly easy to prepare. Both Cheeseboy and I are foodies, and pretty accomplished cooks in our own right, but there was much we learned. At the end of it all we sat down to eat all that we had prepared, partnered with a couple of bottles of Mornington Peninsula shiraz.
Tonight is Fong’s birthday. She is having a small celebration at a restaurant in Swan Street. Earlier today while I was at my cooking course she came over and took Rigby to his obedience classes in my stead. That was very generous of her. She told me afterwards that she nearly lost her fingers feeding him the treats he gobbles up so vociferously.
That’s how it is this Saturday. Last night it was the great hall of the NGV where we had a very enjoyable wine tasting. Tomorrow – back pending – I have a yoga session with the other teacher, the French one. There’s no shortage of things to do.