A few days ago I left my home and saw this dog running down the road. He was excited and I though he lived nearby. The next day I saw him running behind a truck, following the voice of those inside. Yesterday night Marce and I found him alone in the same road. We concluded that he was lost and, as we had just bought food for Ada, we gave him a little. He was starving and cold so we took him home. It was difficult convincing him to get in the house but at the end we did it. To continue the tradition, we named him after Sir Frederic Bartlett, Fred for the friends.
Last night they slept together and this morning he was extremely… happy. After a good clean up and a walk, Ada and he played for a while. She was, as always, the dominatrix.
It caught me unprepared and I didn’t know what was it about until the end, but I didn’t care that it was a commercial spot. Maybe it was because the nostalgia that comes down on me once in a while, or because the colombian vistas, or maybe it was that song sung in that way, the fact is that I loved it. It is a gorgeous mini-movie that, by chance, ended up associated to a trademark.
And the song (originally by Celia Cruz) goes something like this:
I look for you lost in dreams,
the noise of the crowd wraps me in a veil.
I look for you flying in the sky,
the wind has swept you away like an old handkerchief.
And I do nothing else than search
in places so strange
that I cannot find you.
They say people don’t read long texts on the web. Ok, I can understand that. They say we need short and to the point texts that give clear information. I can understand that also. I am sorry but I don’t think those short texts work either. If they did, there wouldn’t be comments as clueless as those written here.
(That link points to a Google translation of the original post but it retains enough of the original sense to explain my rant)
Mi first choice was Hypatia but that name is reserved for the cat, so she remained nameless for a few hours. The abandoned mutt with a head wound, two months old, dehydrated, flea-ridden and with a few ticks was anonymous from the moment I found her abandoned near the car to half hour after the vet cleaned her up, injected her antibiotics, wrote a prescription and gave us advice.
It had to be the name of a mathematician and a woman.
Meet Ada Augusta.
The phone sits in front of me, oblivious to my hesitance. What if the book is right and that number is God’s phone? Not having a dialing code might be troublesome but then, if it was true, He probably had taken all necessary measures to ensure it worked by itself. What if He didn’t want to be reached? Or if He was dead, as some people claimed? Six weeks since I decided to try it and still the same doubts stop me.
What the Hell, I am dialing. Now.
A machine answers: service no longer available. If you need assistance, don’t panic. Service no longer available. If you need assistance, don’t panic…
Don’t panic? Right.