PHOTOGRAPHY AND TEXT BY KEVIN MULLINS
We are still in some lockdown.
Our government seem to be in a total spin.
Stay at home. Don’t stay at home. Go to work. Don’t go to work.
Just yesterday, the day after 200,000 left these Isles for their holiday in “safe Spain”, the government proclaimed it was no longer safe, and they would have to either come home or quarantine for 14 days upon their arrival.
It reminds me a little bit of our dog sofa.
It doesn’t have an identity. We define it as the dog sofa. It’s supposed to be where the dogs sleep and generally behave like dogs.
But it’s not really. It’s as confused as our government.
The kids love it mixed in with the odours and hairs of our two beloved hounds.
When I awoke yesterday, the sofa was gone.
Just disappeared, like all my work this year. Unexpected and quite unnerving.
Gemma had decided that we didn’t need it for now.
Maybe we’ll get another dog sofa. I don’t know. I doubt it.
The dogs continue to do whatever they like anyway. I’m not sure if the dogs follow the science, or if they do what’s best for them.
Either way, the whole episode of losing the dog sofa seems incongruously reminiscent of our government right now.
For now, the sofa is gone. The dogs look at the old space as if they are watching the last twenty minutes of 2001 A Space Odyssey. Bemused. Perhaps.
Here are some final snaps I took of the dog sofa , all during the COVID-19 period.
