I was walking with the husky in the park nearby, pondering should I wear my ski suit or swimming suit the next day. It was dark grey everywhere, the pale leafless trees waved in the mild wind. It was almost 11 pm and all the joggers and Nordic walkers had gone inside.
I was almost melting to the quietness when I saw it.
There was a dog hanging from the tree. It's body was stretched, the legs kicked slowly back and forth. I looked closer and saw a tall man standing under the tree. The dog was hanging really high, it's feet weren't even touching the man's shoulders. I stared at the dog feet, moving slower and slower. I wondered should I break the silence or just walk away. I walked away. I closed my eyes, saw the dead, swaying body in my mind and turned around.
T Fox: Excuse me, what are you doing? Why is that dog hanging from the tree?
Man: It's just hanging there.
T Fox: But why?
Man: It likes it.
I looked at the dog again. It wasn't moving. I couldn't see the face of the man, but suddenly he looked like one, who likes to hang unaware animals and eat cats as a breakfast. The man's bald head was moving towards me. His body was huge. The dog wheezed quietly. I walked away and tried to find my mobile, but I had left it at home. Who would leave her house at midnight, without a phone, when all the squirrel eating bareheads were set free?
A white van came came closer. I waved my hand vigorously and the car slowed down. A small, slim long-haired man looked at me with huge, round eyes. He opened the window, just a little bit.
T Fox: Look, don't you think that the man there is hanging a dog?
The man looked at the bushes. I tried to think if he thought which one was scarier; me jumping straight from the bushes with a wolf-like dog or an invisible dog-hanger in the dark.
Man2: I'll go and look then.
The man with the van drove to the park, opened the door and walked with short steps towards the man and the dog on the tree.
I followed the man, who looked really scared. The bald, big man looked scared too. I wondered what did the slim man think about the bald man and what did the bald man think about my hippie-looking scout. There were we; standing in the deep silence, staring at each others' trembling shadows.
The dog from the tree fell down. It was big thumb. A sound, which only comes when a trimmed bulldog falls from the tree. The dog looked at us, gave a questioning glance to his owner and
then looked carefully at my husky. I looked at my dog too and tried to guess what would she do. If she gets scared she either shows her sharp white teeth or pretends she is a squirrel. I bet she hadn't brushed her teeth yet.
About selfies - I just discovered that the French for *selfie* is *égoportrait*, which is entirely perfect and beautiful. *PS: I’ve been advised that égoportrait is spec...
5 days ago