“Prince! What you are, you are by circumstance and birth. What I am, I am through myself. Of princes there have and will be thousands. Of Beethoven there is only one!”
– Ludwig van Beethoven
I think Waffle is going deaf. Either that or he has developed selective hearing. Either that, or he’s simply not listening to me anymore, which, as you might imagine isn’t doing wonders for my blood pressure.
The above quote from the German composer and pianist of some renown, Herr Beethoven is an excerpt from a missive sent to a one-time patron and admirer, Prince Lichnowsky. The story goes that the prince, who on one occasion was hosting some French military officers, asked Beethoven to play for them but the musician refused, possibly because he had been insulted by one of the officers or possibly, because he did not appreciate being treated as a mere servant.
The aforementioned note to the prince meant that the twain’s relationship was never again the same.
I mention Beethoven because he too famously suffered from hearing loss, although ‘suffered’ is perhaps not le mot juste, seeing as how he created many of his most admired works during this time. ‘Ironic,’ is perhaps too insufficient a word.
Waffle also, is crafting some of his most stunning chicanery during this time of suspected deafness. The eventuality in the shed last week when he chased a mouse or a rat or a cat and only succeeded in wrecking the interior of said shed was a calamity to behold. Despite vigorous and loud applications for Waffle to desist from his chase, he was deaf to all my entreaties. Either that or he chose to ignore me.
The interior of my shed is never tidy at the best of times. There is the lawnmower, chicken feed in a steel bin, weed killer, hen medicine, a saw, hammers, old papers in a pile, a bunch of screwdrivers, a bike, plastic buckets, a bodhrán (?), some old brewing equipment that I can’t bring myself to throw out and lots more stuff which is loosely classified under ‘too bad for the house but too good for the bin.’
However, after Waffle’s chase of the mouse or the rat or the cat inside the shed, the interior of this already messy milieu became such a state that honestly, I almost cried.
Waffle (or the mouse or the rat or the cat) had knocked over old paint pots, spilling their vicious contents onto the plywood floor. A hose had been knocked from a screw upon which it had hung, scuttling the hen feed. A tin of nails on one of my home-made shelves was cast asunder, scattering the metal contents all over the paint. A pile of old newspapers was no longer a pile… in short, it was a catastrophe of deadly proportions.
Admittedly, I had arrived mid-chase when Waffle’s blood was already up and his unseen quarry had already sought succour well within the piles of mess. The upshot was, I never actually set eyes on the quarry as the Hairy Fool continued to clamber and bounce around the interior of the shed adding to the already considerable chaos, continuously deaf, to my pleadings for restraint.
Correspondingly, I was none too pleased with Herr Hairyhoven when he deigned to desist from the chase. ‘Displeased’ is most certainly not le mot juste. Perhaps, ‘incensed’ is more apt or maybe ‘furious.’
For one, wild moment, I even considered entering the shed and continuing to wreck the place in a gratifying fit of madness – perhaps smashing things into smithereens with a pair of hammers. Then I remembered that this course of action would result in even more of a clean-up. Also, I didn’t trust myself with a hammer in hand with Waffle nearby.
Instead I took an enormous breath and held it for five seconds. Then I drew Waffle a stare – a glare of such laser-like intensity I wondered if his fur might catch fire. It did not.
“Are you deaf, dog?” I asked, my eyes slumping into mere puffy rage. “Did you not hear me, there?”
As this is a family newspaper, I can’t fully report the quality of the salty language used but you could guess where the obscene modifiers might be inserted into those sentences.
As you might also guess, Waffle only looked back at me, albeit a little truculent in his demeanour. He seemed to say, “Human! What you are, you are by circumstance and birth. What I am, I am through myself. Of humans there have and will be billions. Of Waffle there is only one!”
Thank the Lord for that.
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