photo 1 (1)  photo 2


(in memory of Lassie and Estrella)


It was the barking that done it, you know.

I say, had they not barked they’d still be there.

On top of the garage looking down whenever someone passes by

ears pricked up, heads cocked to one side then the other

and tails moving frantically like an out-of-control-pendel of a cuckoo’s clock,

all the time barking.


It’s a shame really, but I tell you, it was all the barking, you know.

No-one knows who’s done it, but there’s been lots of break ins.

Some gang stealing diesel from the tractors and lorries that are left outside.

Breaking into warehouses if they don’t find nothing outside.

But if that wasn’t enough, they slashed the tires of my neighbour’s lorry,

out of boredom or malice, who knows?


I tell you, this used to be a quiet place.

All that was only for Madrid or Malaga.

Rich places, you know, where the rich live.

But here, here’s nothing, just tractors,

and harvest machines, lots of land, wheat, sugar beets,

corn, barley and sunflowers.


If you come here in the spring or early summer

the land is very beautiful.

It turns green then golden.

And you can see the wheat moving in the wind and think

you are standing in the sea watching the waves

and the sunflowers cheer you up all the way to León.


I tell you, I’ve been a farmer all my life.

Been working the land for 60 years.

I never left this place, you know.

I’ve seen things changing slowly over time.

But all that what’s going on now is terrible, really.

I never thought it could happen to one of us in the village.


They came to steal

and when the dogs didn’t stop barking

they threw them two pieces of

poisoned meat

and the dogs didn’t object no more.

It was the barking that done it.


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