Monday, 21 March 2011

Poor Inuki

For some strange reason we wanted to take another dog, exactly the same as the one we have, black, half-blood pit-bull. The new would be six month months younger. We did not know what to do with the one we had already so I took her to a museum. I left her in the middle of an exhibit. They had an exhibition of small installations that looked like contemporary window installations for commercial shops. I thought she would get some proper care there. Then I saw I was with my old flat mates and we were cooking. Pasta. I was making the sauce and I left the onions almost uncooked but they did not complain. I also put too little food in one of the plates and then I struggled to make every portion even but still one was constantly smaller. I added some red sauce and tasted it again and this time it was just fine. In addition to this the amount of food had increased significantly. I shared it in to three big vessels and put a lid on each one to keep it warm. One looked like a traditional wooden steam cooker, one was enameled and the third was plain plates. I was late for work so I left. When I got to the office where I was supposed to be working I saw it was transformed into an Indian telephone company. I was waiting for some time for somebody to ask some questions and by his answers I understood I might be unemployed again. I thought it was not so bad and that I had my second part-time job anyway. I was walking down a street of my home-town where my mom used to have a shop when I came across the museum where I had left the dog. The outside looked also like a commercial shop for clothes. I went in and found the dog in a dreadful condition. She was skinny and she had lost most of her hair, trembling on her thin legs. I called her name and she responded. I hugged her and called tell him that I was bringing her home and that it might be all right to have two dogs. He came as well and we were cuddling her, hoping that the new dog would not attack her because despite the fact that it was younger she was so maltreated that she was weaker and smaller.
I woke up thinking of a tune by Fugazi, half an hour later that I was supposed to, but I think I'll just say "..uck it" and go to work when I am ready.

No comments:

Post a Comment