Have you ever noticed how a dog likes apples? I have.
Specifically he will carry it around and nurture it for days and days and days before finally bringing it to me and dropping it neatly, but wet, into my hand. I see this as him taking care that I am not poisoned by any chemicals that might have been used to bring the apple to fruition. So this made me ruminate so deeply about the nature of nurture, and its possible co-dependancy with chemicals, that I decided a series of speriments was overdue.
Now I know that some animal rightists might at this point be disposed to frown, which by the way makes you look ugly, it can be used to good effect in local taverns when you wish to mingle with the ordinary people, or at football matches when you end up in the Tottenham end because you sneaked in without paying, but alas I do not and never did propose to employ my dog for these experiments, because on a fundamental level, this would of course be very wrong.
No, I decided to use Lambert, and took the executive decision to start speriments on a placebo basis, meaning I did not tell him, so that he couldn't fake the results for sympathy, which I feel sure he would have knowing to how he is disposed to eke out the drama in any given situation.
A trip to the attics over the stables produced a dusty yet almost complete chemistry set, the very same one as was hidden from me following a small fire which devastated the Christmas tree of the time, a single curtain, two table cloths, a table leg and a furry animal toy minus the small electrical device which made it say "I wuv you" and a gigleeee.
To my delight I found the only thing missing was the instructions and some what may have been alum powder, but that was hard to ascertain since I remembered having peeled off all the labels in an earlier attempt to discover if humans could tell which chemical was which, simply by taste. I found that I could, although there was a minor flaw in that without labels, I had no way of knowing whether or not I was correct.
Having decided to set up my laboratory in this attic, so that my discovery would remain a distant concern, I quickly made preparations and using an old school chemistry book, in which I had drawn dolphins eating flowers right alongside elements of the periodic table, I wrote in my neatest hand, METHOD, RESULT and OBSERVATIONS. Immediately underneath each heading, I drew more dolphins eating flowers, just as it appeared I had been taught at school. My preparations now complete, I began.
Using a grubby pouch which I had earlier relieved Lambert of, which contained a substance known as Black Shag, or by Cook as, " that disgusting stuff ", I added to the loathsome coils of some long dead plant some grey powder, some glittery crystals, and some rusty iron filings. Mixing them in well, using Cooks second blender in case she spotted her main one missing, I was soon satisfied that Lambert would never notice, notwithstanding the curiously added weight, on account of a slight slip whilst adding the rusty iron. I rested a while and had an inward chuckle at the word Shag, having heard several of the male guests at numerous dinner parties discussing it at length. I had no idea that so many elderly men ( that is, above 30 ) had such an enduring interest in ornithology. I have loads of Shags down on the rocks by the beach, they fly in to rest their arms or wings or whatever and are distinguishable from Puffins because they are uniformly black, whereas a Puffin has a different beak.
So far I am disappointed into thinking my speriment lacks vivacity, because although Lambert is loathe to be parted from his odious pouch, which indicates a form of protective nurture, he has definitely developed a definable twitch and ponderous propensity to walking almost with his knees together, which I am afraid goes against his normal gait, thus eliminating any aspect of nature, as in natural. I have heard him liken his current condition to that of having piles, which is an outright lie because I know for a fact most of his stipend goes on cider and what is left I take off him in our Wednesday evening Canasta sessions, which isn't really my fault, since he obstinately refuses to learn my rules, preferring instead to rely on those printed inside the card box, which are wrong.
Lizzie xx