Working It Out

Sleeping Angel

Last night I went to see the premiere English stage production of an opera by Donizetti - I know! It was called Pia de Tolomei, and it was glorious, as good as Lucia, better even. The singing was excellent, the story ridiculous and impossible to follow, and the music divine. What a treat that was. I have no idea why it is not part of the regular repertoir of opera houses. I don't think Hugo enjoyed it all that much though. He had to have an early supper, and then got rammed into his cage in the back of the car which he hates. But what's the alternative? I can't leave him home alone for all that time, at least not yet: he might wreck the house. I'd like to let him be free in the car, but again I don't know if he'd try to fight his way out. I've thought of putting his bed on the back seat so he gets the message, but I'll have to experiment with that a bit. Tomorrow is another opera, so the routine will be the same. I kind of dread it. Anyway, back home he got a lot of fuss, and though it was late we even played his silly game of me running around the kitchen while he chases me, skipping and jumping around, tail wagging madly. I wish I understood it, but he loves it.