Once, in a fit of candour I told Mum how much <br />I disliked her Staffordshire pottery spaniels; <br />their vacuous eyes, lopsided shoulders, amorphous <br />leg-body-tails, slap-dash two-tone glaze and <br />the absence of any chemistry between them. <br />Years later, tossing out clutter preparatory to <br />moving house, Mum said she remembered how <br />fond I was of her Staffordshire pottery spaniels <br />and how lucky we were to have a matching pair <br />and she promised to keep them for me. <br /> <br />True to her word, they're mine now and I've been <br />trying develop a rapport, though clouds and inkblots <br />have more personality than they do. <br />They're fakes of course; I did some research, but <br />even the genuine ones are unattractive. Mine were <br />probably painted by underpaid Chinese children, <br />an authentic touch since the originals were often <br />painted by underpaid 19th century English children. <br /> <br />Their form has been designed purely to deceive, <br />eastern ingenuity taking advantage of western <br />elitism. I like that! <br />They never look dismayed when I leave for work <br />or pleased to see me when I come home again. <br />They're not needy, make no demands on me, pull <br />no heartstrings. I like that! <br />They fulfil the function of being ornaments, so that <br />if relatives visit, they don't think my home is deficient <br />in ornaments. I like that! <br />I don't need to insure them. I like that! <br />You can see how well I'm doing; four good reasons <br />to like them already. I really want to like them <br />because I'm never going to give them away.<br /><br />Diane Hine<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/spaniels/
