A word about the dog.
There are going to be regular pictures of Tommy in this blog so I may as well introduce him in the cast of characters. He is an “intact male”, I’ll let you figure that one out. Let’s just say that it would be an understatement to state Tommy has character.
His full name is Tommy Lee Jones (to the real Tommy Lee Jones, if you read this one day, you should know it is a statement to the fact you are the only actor our entire family loves equally) and if we had only known when he was a sweet pup how eerily appropriate that name would be given his adult onset grumpiness, we might have called him something else. He doesn’t bark except a shallow, shrill and slightly metallic bark when strangers intrude, which is handy. He also yodels. He grooms himself endlessly, like a cat, and communicates constantly through unbroken eye contact and expressive head movements. He’ll lead us from room to room, or take us to the door to let him out, or tease us into play. And he is more-than-is-normal-obsessed with garbage.
All this is because he is descended from a long line of street and wild African dogs (in the gene pool of the Basenji) and has a wild scavenger streak. But he is fiercely loyal, extremely affectionate (that’s the Retriever dad, thank GOODNESS), and a ferocious rat killer.
So, I am a dog person. One perk of living in Pointe-Noire again would mean that I get to indulge that repressed side of my personality.