A Man and his Dog

The thing about the Norwegian and the dog is both were elderly and sprightly.
The man was carrying say two shopping bags with
groceries and did not alter his pace when walking up steep
stairs and streets or crossing a long bridge or over the rail tracks from one side of Bergen to the other, up hill and down he had a fair walk.  He knew precisely where he could let his dog off the leash, where it would be safe and then never needed to
look back.  The black and white dog knew the route, knew the ropes and
how to behave, all in her own time.  As they were climbing the last
hill the man took the steps to the right but the dog headed left on a
shortcut.  I surmise this was home after a long walk because I turned
back toward town then.

I woke with this on my mind and I am up early (many years of farming)
and having coffee when the kitchen is not crowded and it is quiet in
the hall here at the hostel.  And what did you do in Bergen?  Why on my
bike I followed a man and his dog.  Well it seems to me a real thing to
do.  My dog knew her shortcut too and I felt this tug to be near.

Bergen actually has a few scruffy streets to my relief. The buildings are so attractive, blues, reds, mustards; flat surfaces with doors opening directly on to the streets I love so.

I went to see an Edvard Munch exhibit in Oslo and it was wonderful. He
is a good painter.  One can’t just focus on his most famous.  There are
many of his paintings I’d love on my walls but The Scream ain’t one of
them.

I do not know how you hung in there on my blog.  I don’t enjoy the
medium and my eyes glaze over but I kept an account for myself and
only those interested of my time away.  Did you not find it boring?  I
don’t but it is my record and I am obviously trying to understand my
time.

Thanks for your support once again,

Happy trails to you,

Tony