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| Radetzky, il vecchio pastore tedesco |
Il seguente testo è stato trascritto dal diario personale di Bacco, Flat Coat Retriver di professione.
E' ancora fresco quando usciamo dalla stalla. Abbiamo fatto il solito giro, io, Al e Rad, i miei amici a quattro zampe. Che poi, anche io ho 4 zampe, ma non puntualizziamo troppo.
Siamo in vena di chiacchiere questa mattina e il vecchio Radetzky, il pastore tedesco che chiamo Rad, ha voglia di raccontarci di quando era giovane. Lui le ricorda, queste colline, even when turned their flocks of sheep and was full of pheasants.
'But the sheep are still there', I say.
'Yes', adds to the mutt,' and well pheasants out there, there's that boy who always goes around with his feathers clean and chest puffed '.
' not true ', replied testily Rad. 'You do not know what to talk about. When I was young like you, and inexperienced and brash .... Then there were sheep and pheasants. Yet fagianecore, beasts as large as sheep and pheasant with wings, full of colors and with a beautiful plumed tail. But what do you want to know ... I ... ....' I and then begins to mumble something incomprehensible in a German full of consonants.
Rad said the old man goes back to the nest, with the slowness and solemnity of an Indian elephant. Crosses his hind legs over each other, then leans forward and rests also sit on the floor with the skill of those who make these things all along. Sooner or later I'll have to learn to sit in this way.
and I look at it. We know that when he does that, the old Rad is not going to say one more word. But we are intrigued. We would like to know more about these Fagianecore but we do not know who to ask. Wander around a bit ', pass a few cars along the road. We can not ask the Yellow Dog, the one that knows no other fence and kennel. Once I asked him for information on passing a dove and he was able to answer only 'RECINTORECINTORECINTORECINTORE CINTORECINTO' barking with all the breath in his throat.
We still around in the barn, just to relax and let us come to some ideas e. .. I knew it, they smell heavenly memory took me back to old friends What kittens, and Sti Fi, the three shepherds from Abruzzo that I meet every year with their flocks to pasture. What is communism, with a red handkerchief around his neck and with a reputation for eating children Sti is short for Stefanino, born the day after Christmas and fat as if he had eaten all the dinner alone; Fi is short for whistle because is able to whistle as a shepherd and herding the sheep only in thought.
Story of my friends Al and say that I am going to ask them the story of Fagianecore.
Taken from the diary of our oral dog Bacchus. Soon other episodes!
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