As you may have noticed there is a certain level of dog happenings that get written about from time to time on this blog. The reason why the blog is named after the dog dates back to when I first dipped my toe into online forums. I borrowed the dog’s name to go on Dan Lepard’s forum as I didn’t particularly feel like using my own name. My dear friend Celia @ Figjamandlimecordial suggested that I name the blog after the dog too, so that’s just what I did.
Zeb takes a keen interest in the products of the baking and indeed any food related activities that go on in the kitchen. There is a point in the process when I sit down and stare through the glass door of the oven and watch the bread spring (hopefully) when he knows from past experience that I will stay put for at least fifteen minutes or so and he hops onto my lap, sighs and cuddles down. I pretend to myself he wants to watch the bread in the oven too, but most likely he associates the smell of softly warming bread and the heat from the oven with downtime and a rest.
In the morning when the toast is made, or if there is brioche (oh joy for a French poodle!) he is sitting there waiting for a piece too and ever since he stole a plate of Lebkuchen off a low table one Christmas he has had a terrible weakness for cakes and biscuits and gets outraged if he is not given a taste.
Last night I was catching up on a subscription to a magazine called The New Yorker which I read. My grandparents read it, my parents read it, and my sister reads it, every so often I have a print subscription and the magazines pile up and make me feel guilty that I haven’t even taken them out of their wrappers, so I thought I’d try the iPad version. It has pluses, no piles of unread magazines, but I still think I prefer the print version as being easier to read and handle. I am just tackling the August editions; I am way behind and I really enjoyed this piece by Adam Gopnik on the dog-human relationship which you can read on their website, some of their articles are there for free.
It is a fine old magazine with some extraordinary writing on science, medicine, literature, arts, and politics, wide ranging and beautifully edited. I’ve learnt a lot reading The New Yorker over the years.
This quote in particular stood out from this piece and gave me an opportunity to reflect:
From The New Yorker : PERSONAL HISTORY
Dog Story by Adam Gopnik
How did the dog become our master?
Read more by clicking here :
We are born trapped in our own selfish skins, and we open our eyes to the rings of existence around us. The ring right around us, of lovers and spouses and then kids, is easy to encircle, but that is a form of selfishness, too, since the lovers give us love and the kids extend our lives. A handful of saints “love out to the horizon,” circle after circle—but at the cost, almost always, of seeing past the circle near at hand, not really being able to love their intimates. Most of the time, we collapse the circles of compassion, don’t look at the ones beyond, in order to give the people we love their proper due; we open our eyes to see the wider circles only when new creatures come in, when we realize that we really sit at the center of a Saturn’s worth of circles, stretching out from our little campfire to the wolves who wait outside, and ever outward to the unknowable—toward, I don’t know, deep-sea fish that live on lava and then beyond toward all existence, where each parrot and every mosquito is, if we could only see it, an individual.
You are all part of my circles, my random visitors dropping by and reading my blog, thank you for reading and talking to me.
Now the dog is taking me for a walk; a deal’s a deal!
Joanna @ Zeb Bakes
(300 posts today!)