Stray dog tales
tchaliz
Posts: 37
KIDS
We are fairground people, that's what we do, brought up on the road, the woods, and wastelands.
Tilde is my daughter. She does the magic part of the show. She tells people what they are thinking, what they have in their pockets, how they feel, that kind of things...she leaves everybody wandering what the trick is. But the thing is there is no trick, and she really does it. She was born like that, and she had to learn how to shut her mind when she was still a baby; so she did not have to bear the weight of other people's thougts, desires, fears and angers, in her own body ans soul. It's a heavy burden for a little girl. Now it's OK, she can handle it, and she says doing it just for the show is groovy.
My son Io does the animal trainer show, full moon nights only, with the two young werewolves he domesticated. I remember the night he found them, he was four years old, and they were so small they looked like mice and slept in his furry slippers. Io has a special feeling with animals, he is not like you and me. He enters into their mind and body like in a ship, and «...finds the right wind and sails» at least that's the way he explains it. Everybody thinks they are disguised dogs, and they assume the performance is even more astonishing...
Then there is my cat, Woods. I call him that way cause his fur has the colour of golden leaves of autumn. He goes out every night, comes back in the middle of the night, and lays in bed by my side. Then I half-wake up, touch his fur, look for the the scents he brings home, touch the dust on his fur, the mud on his paws and fall asleep again. And in my dream I can see what he saw, I can feel the damp ground under my feet, I hear the dead leaves crack under my steps, I feel the pale moonlight warming up the naked branches. I can sense the silence all around, the danger overflowing, the thrill of fights, smell territorial marks here and there, and blood sometimes.
A day came when, mixed with the forest scents, there was a perfume. A feminine perfume I knew. Several nights in a row he brought me that very same perfume. And I went into dreams. Obscure dreams first, of a faceless presence, then more and more clear, night after night. Eventually, I could touch her, first with my finger tips... then put my arms around her, and keep her in my arms until wake up. It went on all winter long. Though I never could not see her face clearly, I knew who she was. And did not expect to keep her by my side forever. Spring came, with it's fresh flashy scents, and blew away the cosiness, the calm and the silence protecting my dream, ans she was gone.
I never knew any woman wearing that perfume, except for the one I have imagined since their mother left us, but never met. Maybe she is somewhere to be found after all, or maybe it's just one of those mind tricks my kids like to play on me...They know the answer for sure, but hey, they won't tell...by delicacy and sheer teasing too. Kids...
We are fairground people, that's what we do, brought up on the road, the woods, and wastelands.
Tilde is my daughter. She does the magic part of the show. She tells people what they are thinking, what they have in their pockets, how they feel, that kind of things...she leaves everybody wandering what the trick is. But the thing is there is no trick, and she really does it. She was born like that, and she had to learn how to shut her mind when she was still a baby; so she did not have to bear the weight of other people's thougts, desires, fears and angers, in her own body ans soul. It's a heavy burden for a little girl. Now it's OK, she can handle it, and she says doing it just for the show is groovy.
My son Io does the animal trainer show, full moon nights only, with the two young werewolves he domesticated. I remember the night he found them, he was four years old, and they were so small they looked like mice and slept in his furry slippers. Io has a special feeling with animals, he is not like you and me. He enters into their mind and body like in a ship, and «...finds the right wind and sails» at least that's the way he explains it. Everybody thinks they are disguised dogs, and they assume the performance is even more astonishing...
Then there is my cat, Woods. I call him that way cause his fur has the colour of golden leaves of autumn. He goes out every night, comes back in the middle of the night, and lays in bed by my side. Then I half-wake up, touch his fur, look for the the scents he brings home, touch the dust on his fur, the mud on his paws and fall asleep again. And in my dream I can see what he saw, I can feel the damp ground under my feet, I hear the dead leaves crack under my steps, I feel the pale moonlight warming up the naked branches. I can sense the silence all around, the danger overflowing, the thrill of fights, smell territorial marks here and there, and blood sometimes.
A day came when, mixed with the forest scents, there was a perfume. A feminine perfume I knew. Several nights in a row he brought me that very same perfume. And I went into dreams. Obscure dreams first, of a faceless presence, then more and more clear, night after night. Eventually, I could touch her, first with my finger tips... then put my arms around her, and keep her in my arms until wake up. It went on all winter long. Though I never could not see her face clearly, I knew who she was. And did not expect to keep her by my side forever. Spring came, with it's fresh flashy scents, and blew away the cosiness, the calm and the silence protecting my dream, ans she was gone.
I never knew any woman wearing that perfume, except for the one I have imagined since their mother left us, but never met. Maybe she is somewhere to be found after all, or maybe it's just one of those mind tricks my kids like to play on me...They know the answer for sure, but hey, they won't tell...by delicacy and sheer teasing too. Kids...
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Woods' eye - only on a full moon
"I used to live in a room full of mirrors
all I could see was mee
well I take my story and, smash my mirrors
now Burt's art is right here for me to see
I said now Burt's art is right here for me to see"
!
yes
I was 9 when I grew so fast that in just one year I became tall as I am now. And actually, the more I grew up the smaller they got, indeed.
They became half the size they used to be. And I, did not gain any weight, I just became...longer, 1m84 and 30kg. My friends instead did not lose any weight, they just shrink, and became really plump. If they ever fell down a stairway, there was no way you could stop them till they reach the bottom. Eventually, they got their revenge. One summer day, they caught me, knocked me down, tied me, covered my whole body with honey, and left me alone on a wasteland, waiting for the red ants to come...
But the flies came first. Those big yucky grey flies...landed on me, thousands of them. The ants came right after, and launched an organized attack on the yucky flies, which couldn't fight, so they freak out and tried to fly away, but they were stuck! So they carried me away with them. They landed on top of the only tree there was on that wasteland, and went on with their meal, until the end of the afternoon. That's when the storm came. One of those huge summer storms, when the sky is low and almost black, there was lightning, thunder, and drops big as water buckets. As I said, there was no other tree around, so the lightning had to strike my tree. It felt like WHAAM, Iron Man hitting captain America's shield as hard as he could, the thunder boomed inside me, and next second I was down on the ground, shaken up and shivering, but alive, and the flies plus the rain had got me just as clean as a little baby after bath.
From that day on, I gained weight, I gained weight, I gained weight...and my so called friends lost weight, lost weight...till there wasn't much of them left, 70cm and 10 or 11kg... That served them right. After all, I never meant to do them no harm.
Fly Boy
i've been offline for a while, connection problems...we are living in the stone age of internet as you know, and I
come back to find my favorite drawing along with
"Web
She walked and walked on that beach, until she found a curious device, as she never had seen. It was hoisted and it had a tail formed as a fabric funnel."
remenber that one?
but this draw has something diferent, it's like a stained glass window in the churches where you can read the whole story,
thank you Burts,
KEEP ON TRUCKIN'...
T
The vampire child is great, really good. Pretty whacky, funky, ruthless, love it.
p.s. on Spotify, you were right there is an element of peer-to-peer with it, i think it leaves a memory of each song on your PC to be shared with others. Probably could cause problems.
He was definitely too sick. The boat cautiously approached the African coast, put the ship's boy in the dinghy, and a sailor let him on the beach just mile away. Then the boat left. He did not ask where they were. Wouldn't have got an answer anyway. Two days from the last fishing area, three from the one before, and 7 month from home, that's exactly where they were. He did not speak a word of the local language of course; they looked after him, fed him, and he stayed for the next year or so, until a missionary eventually found him and took him to Illinois. He never knew where he had been or the name of the place, but that didn't matter to him.
He just sits watching the sun go down, he loves to wait when there is nothing to wait for, just feeling the wind, until it blows away his self-awareness, and leaves nothing but a reflection of the setting sun, on his empty eyes. Then he stands up and goes to work. «one day I won't come back, I'll go down like the sun and come up on the other side just like the sun!» that was his favorite joke, he sad that all the time before he went to work;
I had found him sleeping under the lion's cage; «to protect myself from scallywags» he explained; the circus hired him as jack of all trades. His last job, he was the human bomb. He was cannon fired, passed through a hatch, landed on giant net outside, then «mysteriously», came back from the opposite corner sitting on a trapeze, waving; people loved it. One day he did not come back at all; they looked for him on the ceiling, and even on top the trees, he was nowhere to be found. We talk about him as the «nowhere boy» from then on, but it seems to be me that's what he always had been.
I saw him once many years after that. He was sitting on the dock on the bay.
where the mind does not know
it sneaks ans whispers
«wherever you go,
you'll go alone»
I believe it,
now,
T.
'He just sits watching the sun go down, he loves to wait when there is nothing to wait for, just feeling the wind, until it blows away his self-awareness, and leaves nothing but a reflection of the setting sun, on his empty eyes.'
I feel relaxed reading this T. I had a little place in a train station that I could sit and do the same; glaze over. Now it is sometimes leaning against the porch to St Andrews in Norwich... worth a google... eating a slice of pizza. And fade.
Self awareness and perception, I watched a programme about some boys with Tourettes and I thought of your story, in terms of perception. A teenage boy with Tourettes described how he thinks people see him or rather do not see him or any more than a shadow of his self because he is wrapped in a layer of grease proof paper. A translucent barrier that people strain to see through or just don't. I thought it was a brilliant description and explanation of his understanding of how he feels Tourettes affects the way people literally see him.
Wouldn't it be interesting to know what the nowhere boy thought of himself. Cool writing T.
I studied that syndrom when i was psychology student, that was long ago, and all i remenber is that science hardly knows anything about it; it was first classified in the psychose "family" but the it dis not really fit in there...brain chemistry seems to be responsible a lot more than environement behaviour so it's really closer to "dementia", wich does not lead us much more far; since it's quite rare it has not been studied that much, too bad for those who have it....besides it does not have the "intelectual appeal" of schizophrenia or autism so...
bye Burts, say hello for me at home
getting some reaction feels so good, sharing is what we write for after all don't we?
i can see the click counter of course, but one word is what does warm up my heart,
so thanks,
T.
I did see the man in the island; he is pretty real, and so are most of the facts that happened in the Strello mountains / Portugal, back in 1966; This is how it probably happened.
Forget that dog – the boss said - the wolves will take care of him...»
Joao always thought his puppy had been eaten by the wolves; he secretly hoped not, as he heard about the local breed of dogs being capable of returning back to wilderness as well as being the best of sheepdog dogs;
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Estrela_Mountain_Dog
He did see his dog again, about a year and a half later; he was trapped in a wolf trap set by the boss; besides that he looked strong and fierce, actually gone back to wilderness; and he had just made another kill;
Joao was 15, and lived in the farm, alone with his boss; the dog was all he cared about in the world; before he could say a word the farmer shot the dog right there, in front of his eyes, and just said «we'll eat the sheep, tomorrow»
The kid run amok to the village, he was possessed, crying, yelling, and he said more or less this «my dog survived, my dog was only hungry, the boss will pay for this, he will know what hunger is...» the boy stayed in the village that night and never came back to the farm.
Facts are that the next day the boss did eat the dead sheep, all of it; he killed another one of his sheeps and it seems that he ate it too. He killed many others, eating them partially, and must have gone on like that all day long, till none of his sheep was left alive. Then he was seen leaving the farm, heading to the village, and news spread that he came killing and biting or eating, every living being on his way. Indeed he did arrive to the village, looking like an ogre, big he was, covered with blood, dirty, blood-shot eyes and all, with a loaded shotgun, and scared the heck out of everyone;
No one came out except the boy, Joao; the story says that he went to the butcher shop, got all the blood he could, filled a cauldron, added all the salt he could find, and local brandy too, and let the cauldron by the lake shore; the «ogre» came, and it's said that he drank it all, and got so drunk and thirsty that he jumped into the lake and never surfaced;
The cauldron was actually found by the lake shore, and the corpse never surfaced, these are facts; the villagers blamed the boy but no one charged him for murder...He is about 60 now and lives in a very small island in the middle of the lake; sometimes he just sits by the shore with a shotgun - like waiting for something to surface? or perhaps I'm imagining this...who would not?
I did not talk to him and he never talks to anyone.
PS - the mountain lake communicates with the ocean, despite the distance, 150km away, the tide movements are easily observed and probably pulled the corpse down. Herman Melville, in the 41th chapter of Moby Dick, mentions “prodigies related in old times of the inland Strello mountain in Portugal (…) near whose top there was said to be a lake in which the wrecks of ships floated up to the surface)”
T.
Of course, I normally only associate 1966 with England winning the World Cup... BUT this was twelve years before I was born, so it may just be myth. I mean, could it really have happened. Now when I am making associations with 1966 I will have an image of the man on the island with his shotgun and I'll know the facts to back it up. Thanks.
A new dog (not stray) soon to be welcomed into the family. Wispa.
Bob had this illusion all day long, at work, at the coffee machine, across the street, everywhere, he had been seeing him. Every time he looked somewhere else. Some things that you see, you don't want to see them.
When he came home that night, there he was again...He found his daughter Sonia seating on the sofa with an unexpected guest. Hi Pa - she said – look who's here, Sugar Ray Rat himself, isn't that cool? Say bye to him, he's just leaving...
He did know him, he even liked the guy, but he definitely should not be there, in his home, seating on the sofa, with Sonia. Sugar Ray Rat is a cartoon!
Sonia, had lot's of imaginary friends she never introduced to him, and Bob totally disliked that, he kept telling her that at the end of the day reality always rules, and she was far to aged to keep playing those fancy games; to say the truth Bob was a rational person.
But come on, Sugar Ray Rabbit, everybody knows him, even he! That's the reason why Bob did not feel that confident about his own mental health then; but Bob was a rational person so he did what he had to do, he went to bed early.
«He's always been here, but he couldn't make it until the sofa actually» his daughter's explanation kept rolling up and down his logic mind all night and he woke up tired. He had one extra cup of coffee, and felt like adding one extra sugar... just for the energy, but he didn't, he drank it with no sugar at all instead.
Next day things got worst; As he was driving home Sugar was seating on the passenger seat but he pretended not to see; he got finned by a police man because Sugar was not wearing his safety belt; but he put that on his imagination too; was it also his imagination that the police man was a bulldog?
He came home and the key wouldn't unlock the door; that's when he started to panic; but Bob is a rational man, and he did what he had to do, he put the key in back his pocket and just pushed the door; and it opened; Sonia was watching a cartoon on the TV, with lots of friends sitting on the sofa and everywhere in the room, all laughing out loud; no one noticed him when he came in; and there was trees, and singing birds flying all around the living room, a smiling sun above, a red train tchoo tchooing all around and dolphins surfing down big fat waves that came from the bathroom.
In the TV set he saw his old living room, he saw himself coming in, he saw his astonished face and he laughed too, then he found himself hanging to a branch of a tree, under the water, tied to the train rails, and eventually someone turned off the TV set, and everything went dark, and silent, and he vanished. Just before vanishing, the last thing he heard was – the end of the day Pa!
Be careful what you teach to the children.
ps- Bob lives happy now, wherever he may be.
T.
We do need to be careful about what we teach our children.
Like about siblings being taught that they aren't equal. The ignorant need to be told again and again but don't listen.
want to be enlightened"
I need to write a haiku Monkey....
What's a haiku?
It's a Japanese poem...
Why do you need to wite a Japanese poem, you're not Japanese?
Monkey was right, so Bod didn't write a haiku. He went back to sleep and slept blissfully. Faculties intact.
Right on T, what's that saying..... keep on truckin'!
want to be enlightened"
I been thinking about Bob. Maybe Bob is like an ice sculpture that has been taken out of the freezer and left in the sun. He is melting away and it is inevitable, out of his control, no way to stop it unless someone picks him up and puts him back in the freezer, but even then he will have lost his sculpted shape and he will be different. Part of him will be in the ether. But Bob melted away, at the end of the day.
T, you remember the old man series, kind of reminds of that idea... the change in state, just before the end of the day;
and then gone. But happy wherever he may be, of course!
Burts is a wise man.
I did not believe a bulldog could drive a truck until the day a truck driven by a bulldog run over me;
I feel much better now;
T.
Oops, wrong stray animal...sorry!
Yes I saw them in Paris... the Stray Cats!
T.
Too much TV = TV will become the kids' reality and parents will become something that can be turned on & off?
Yes!
i like the idea very much; i see two ways of melting, one is just disapearing, disintegrating, like death; the other is melting to become part of a larger universe, and this is how i felt looking for and end to TV KID, and why Bob, after some challenging experiences like being under the water and tied to the train rails finnaly "passed the audition" and reached his kid's universe, and is happy now!
T
keep on trucking...
you tell the story and paint the picture so well... I especially dig the words above.. the opening just rocks... and the winter's calm and silence do tend to protect our dreams... and give them real life...
thanks