Monday’s daily moomin
In the moomin books, I always wanted to be like Snufkin — wise, free and devoted to my art — but I always suspected that I really resembled Sniff — whiny, shrill and selfish. I can admit my affinity for Sniff more easily at 33 1/2 than I could at 6. Here’s an introduction to him, from the short story “Cedric.”
Now, afterwards, it is hard to understand how that small beast, Sniff, could ever have been persuaded to give Cedric away.
Never before had Sniff done such a thing, rather the reverse. And furthermore Cedric really was quite wonderful.
Cedric wasn’t alive, he was just a thing –but what a thing! At first sight he was just a small plush dog, rather bald and love-worn, but a closer look showed that his eyes were nearly topazes and that he had a small genuine moonstone on his collar just beside the clasp.
And furthermore he carried an inimitable expression on his face, an expression that no other dog could ever have. Possibly the jewels were more important to Sniff than the expression, but in any case he loved Cedric.
And as soon as he had given Cedric away he regreted it to desperation. He neither ate nor slept nor talked. He only regretted.
