About the Old Dog Bodřík

I watched this in the ideal scenario: My old, creaky, stout dog – my best friend in this whole world – snoozing on my lap on a cold winter morning, flitting in and out of consciousness as the sounds of the TV and the resting house punctuate the broad silence; his adoptive younger sister, a very enthusiastic but incredibly stupid dog, in a state of perpetual distraction, skulking from the kitchen to the bedroom to the living room in search of something, anything, to focus her unrelenting lack of attention. I just really like this Eastern European style where there’s this lovely, affable quality that arises from the juxtaposition of sudden, jerky motion and complete stillness. The low brass growl indicating not just a prowling wolf but anything that would mean harm to Bodrik's small flock – we truly cannot trust trombone players. I really need to take up smoking a pipe

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