Making Things Better

Some of us are very busy reading in celebration of  

International Anita Brookner Day.....

There are prizes and everything......

Chip here is reading Brookner's Making Things Better....he sincerely hopes this foray into human activity does make things better and not worse, though he morosely suspects the latter.

Chip is a bit like a Brookner character...he is lonely and lives a fairly caged existence. His every need is provided for but he lacks companionship or any significant other.

Of course, there was a time in his youth, when he thought he fancied his cousin.  Misty was a pretty, petulant thing but then the humans interfered, as humans do, and they've been separated ever since. He makes sure he sees her every day, as she lives right next door, but it's a quiet life.  

Half the time he doesn't even know if she sees him.  Misty's name became eerily prophetic that day she was gorging herself on nut grass, blissfully unaware of the danger lurking in the unclipped chicken wire which scratched her eye, making her blind overnight and detracting somewhat from her beauty.  No other suitors come knocking at her door now but he admires and defends her foolish pride steadfastly.

It's grey and wintry in Brisbane today and Chip longs for the sun of summer although the oppressive heat brings the threat of exhaustion and prostration .  A guinea pig's lot brings its own small trials.

Chip knows he mustn't grumble.  Broccoli stems, carrot sticks and apple are provided regularly.  The straw could be changed more frequently but the humans mean well.  He is grateful for any attention really.

It's just that every day is the same with no hope of change on the horizon.

Chip has thought of travelling - his mother often told stories of the early years when she had been allowed to roam free around the small suburban block.  But then the human mother and father took charge and any idea of "continental" travel was quashed. His mother became withdrawn and needy after that.  No delicate morsels could tempt her.  Her decline was slow and somewhat pathetic.  Chip dreams about her still but in happier days which makes the pain of waking all the more unbearable. 

Chip wonders if an iPad might provide some comfort but then demurs - it would jar aggravatingly with the Victorian decor of his hutch. 

An old-fashioned book will make do and, if consumption proves indigestible, it can always be recycled as compost...some of us were not born for great deeds but take comfort in contributing, however frugally, to the great circle of life.

With thanks to Isabel for participating in this bit of nonsense and taking such an excellent photo of Chip.