Musings from the Alphapet (top dog)

Finally.  I’ve figured out what is fundamentally wrong with us all in this country.  We speak English!   Pfuh!  Why hasn’t anyone else noticed this and sorted it?

It’s not the language per se that is primarily at fault – although we have to admit it’s not the most beautiful of tongues, but it’s the fact that it simply lacks feeling.

I have just read that Eskimos have thirty-two, that’s THIRTY-TWO words for love.  Now, I don’t know if that’s because they spend a lot of time snuggled up under fur throws with time on their hands  between trapping expeditions and carving soapstone Ookpiks to come up with ingenious ways to keep warm but all I can say is “bring on the Winter” if it will help our linguistic frigidity.

And they’re not alone.  My yoga instructor informs me that there are 96 words for love in Sanskrit, and that’s a largely historical and ceremonial language these days.  There are 80 in ancient Persian and 3 in Greek.  There are probably 370 in French and Italian but they’re all too busy using them to write them down anywhere.

Like the (much exaggerated) number of words Eskimos have for snow they would, however, probably die of frustration if they only had one word for it.  We’re dying of detachment because we only have one word for love.

How deliciously expressive it would be to have different ways to communicate our love of animals, food, beauty, the senses and even inanimate objects.  I had a couch that I loved once.  He was called George and it would have been very special to have been able to express my affection for him.  Slouve?

It’s no coincidence (well, maybe just to me) that “wolves” (the Gray variety genetically proven to be the ancestor of the domestic dog) has the word love neatly embraced within it.  Like woof and love!  I’ve just told Dinah, my Golden retriever, that I “wolve” her.  She rolled on her back and wrapped her front paws around my neck.  I rest my case.

Our language just isn’t vibrant enough.  I’m constantly coming up with words to illuminate exactly what I mean.  Living in the North East of Scotland, I don’t have barbecues.  I have ‘brrrbecues’.  Out walking I see lots of little white ‘deerrieres’ disappearing through the trees: roe deer bottoms.  I use a highly specialised cleaning product for pet accidents: ‘shampoop’, and whilst on the subject (sort of) what I’m served at the hairdresser is ‘coiffee’.  My spell-checker has just gone into meltdown.

As Noam Chomsky once said, “Language is a process of free creation; its laws and principles are fixed, but the manner in which the principles of generation are used is free and infinitely varied.”

I’ll muster all my ‘inkspiration’ (a vital tool for a writer) to try to brighten up the ‘blandscape’ which is our leaden lingo.  If it’s corny enough it might even turn up on ‘Amaizon.com’.  Groan.

There’s a ‘Roverture’ (classical barking) going on around me.  Time for walkies again … because I ‘wolve’ them.