Orange, sour or not

Photo ☛ Georgios Karamanis

Allegories. Excess adjectives. Meaningful. Coherent. Reality. Fiction.

The dog was sniffing around the orange car in front of the orange house.

Before it did something to the car, I walked up close and tried to shoo away the dog. It is not a stray to know how to adjust with other creatures on the street. This one has a collar. It thinks it is home and owns everything. It bared its teeth at me. I froze. I stopped thinking. I felt it peeing on my leg and make me a part of its territory. I was relieved to know that it was perspiration. The dog was far away now, jogging along, expanding its rule, overwriting claims made before it, each stride that it made was aloof and uncaring. It knows who is the boss. I imagined hurling it in the air by its hind legs, on to the roof of the house and watch it shiver and freeze out of vertigo.

I took a deep breath. The air still smelled like that four legged worm. I sighed. I stuck the dog helpline poster on the next lamp post.