My Hilda’s Namesake
I named my dog after a saint.
Hildegard von Bingen, to be precise. The patron saint of conlangers and, it turns out, a rather remarkable woman. She was, among other things, a visionary and a bit of a seeress. She came from a wealthy background, but during a time when women were not often educated, so her personal secretary took down Hildegard’s dreams for her. Ironically, the Mother of Conlanging was somewhat embarassed by her Latin. (For those of you just joining the thoughts running through my head, conlanging is short of Constructed Language making. It was Tolkien’s “Secret Vice”.) She also composed music and encouraged everyone to sing praises to God’s glory at a time when such things were considered “unseemly”. She was also, of course, German.
Unfortunately, my Hilda has not been very saintly today. She found something dead and quite ripe to roll in today at lunchtime. I doused her with some babypower, but that didn’t help at all. So, I sprayed her with a little cologne, but, I’m afraid that didn’t do much either. Thankfully, I have a lot of V-8 to soak her in and get that nasty smell out. Well, I’m off to wash the dog and empty the bottle of Ozium throughout the house.
A little advice from your Uncle Jim… Always be suspicious if your dogs or children are too quiet for very long. It means they’re up to no good, whether they’re named after a saint, or not!
Advice from your Uncle Jim:
"Man is the only kind of varmint that sets his own trap, baits it, and steps in it."
--John Steinbeck
