samedi 23 octobre 2010

My Nikon 300D


Fia



11 weeks old, and 2 weeks here in her home. It was quiet. I looked at my watch. 3:50 pm. I ought to have put her in her gated-off area 5 minutes before. I got up from where I was sitting, photoshopping another batch of photographs I have shot with Sam's Canon EOS Rebel Xti and glanced toward Rapide's bed. No Fia.

I looked under the dining table, where she sometimes goes to lie amongst the chair legs. No Fia.

I bent to look where she often fell asleep her first week home, under the sofa below where I sat. No Fia.

I started to get a little worried. There was no movement, and she was in none of her usual places. I walked farther towards the kitchen, and I saw black on the fleece blanket covering her cushion behind the gate. I leave it open so that she can choose to go there when she is free to roam, and for the first time, she had gone there all by herself, and curled up to faire dodo.

The indescribable joy when something works the way it is supposed to.

Yesterday, Fia helped me close the pool. After her mésaventure the previous week, falling in twice, not grasping what a corner means, I wasn't certain she'd agree to spend even 5 minutes anywhere near the pool. For several days after, the second I put her down at the bottom of the garden stairs and went to purge the pump, she'd be gone straight back up them. I'd find her just inside the living room door, waiting. But, she did. She trotted around the poolside, sniffing away, and snatched the skimmer basket I had just removed and emptied, darting away with it in her mouth, zig-zagging across the grass, unable to see where she was going for the big white thing she was not about to relinquish.

"Apporte, Fia. Apporte."

Right.

It does work. Sometimes. But she is getting really serious about "assis" ("sit") and is actually showing a faint sign of progress with "reste" ("stay"). The idea is to put the two together for "reste assis" until I give the sign "okay", then she can get up/eat/leave my side.




Today, Sam brought the used Nikon D300 I bought on eBay and that he picked up in Paris for me. Now, I just have to find my Nikkor lenses and reassure myself they really do work. They're not VF, but having become irrelevant to everyone except my dogs, garden and immediate family, and having no business that brings in income, I must be patient. Only, having discovered what a really good digital camera means -- you can take photographs that you could not otherwise dream of taking --, and knowing I will only have so many puppies in my life, at least this much was indispensable, but maybe I'll study and practice and offer pet portrait photography.

That's a job, right?

Meanwhile, my back-ordered copy of Sean Ellis' Kubrick the Dog arrived today from Amazon.co.uk.

"What's that book?" asked Sam, who had just arrived home from the train, picking it up to look at the photos.

"It's a book the fashion photographer and filmmaker Sean Ellis made of his Vizsla, Kubrick. My books about Baccarat are just like it!" I said, feeling rather proud and excited, "Well, minus Stella McCartney and top models at lingerie shoots," I conceded. Sam continued turning the pages.

"His photos are really good, Mom," he replied. There was just the slightest, almost imperceptible emphasis on "his". Only the introductory "but" was missing. Sam is considerate.

"Yeah, well, I didn't have a camera like he does." Now I almost do.

Where are those lenses?
....


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