Dog years




The words; Dog Years is written in the sand with a stick. A dog runs through the frame, its owner follows.


Ben, a large, brown short haired mongrel, is held tightly by the collar.


My name is Ben.

I was born in the summer months of 1996, that makes me 39, and a Leo.

m.s: from behind, low.

The owner lets go and Ben sprints off.

Now you might think that at this particular time in my life, I might be heading for a mid-life crisis of some description.

Ben socialises with another dog.

Subconsciously wanting to prove my virility to younger members of the opposite sex as the inevitably of death looms closer.

c.u: hovering hand held.

Ben sniffs around a rock pool.

Well youd be wrong. Ysee my testicles were removed from my body at thirteen years of age, so job done.

w.s: pull focus to reveal owner beckoning ben in background

The owner calls Ben over, though he doesnt respond.

Well, needless to say, the events surrounding this surgical procedure were not the happiest of times. Him over there, he had them off, we fell out, and as a result I ate his chair

It was pretty ugly at the time, since though much water has passed and now we hardly ever mention it.

When we do, and I dont know why, I have this insatiable desire to eat my own faeces. This sends him crazy, especially as its often in public. I say: You walk naked around the streets with no balls then youll know embarrassment.

This usually settles things.

The owner whistles, and Ben runs up along side him.

Today, were spending some quality time together. This makes up for when hes been mysteriously disappearing from home, leaving me to do very little with myself.

Its a pretty lonely existence really. I get depressed and sleep a lot. When not sleeping, I roam about the house from one room to the next getting my hopes up every time I hear the gate swing.

When he does get home, I try to question him about where hes been but he acts as if hes done nothing wrong and then falls asleep in front of the television.

This goes on for about five days, by which time I lose my rag and usually have a proper go atim. Then for a while were fine, like today, all lovey dovey like nothing ever happened.

We muck about, go for walks, and I start to reconsider our relationship, I think; Yes, we do love each other, Yes, we do have a future together, and then as soon as were showing signs of progress, he disappears again. Fucks off, leaving me to pace the same stretch of carpet, day in, day out.

It breaks my heart. It really does.

Ive thought about leaving him, making a run for it, but you never know whether the next person youll meet will treat you any better.

The Owner throws a stick into the sea.

Ooh, ere we go. He likes this, look.

Dog chases it until emerged up to his neck.

Hello, tides a bit strong.

Fuck it, Im drowning.

cut to:

Owner stands with back to camera in foreground, the sparse empty sea in background.


The owner runs into the sea, despairingly and wades back to shore with Ben in his arms.


I love you.

από εδώ

4 σχόλια:

Spy είπε...

Εεεε... χμμμ... ναι, ε, λοιπόν...

(με έχει κυριεύσει μια εξαιρετική ευφράδεια όπως καταλαβαίνετε)

sousou είπε...

πολύ όμορφο

aerosol είπε...

Τι περίεργο, φευγάτο πραγματάκι!
Κυρίως η αφήγηση, θα έλεγα, παρά η εικόνα.
Κι όμως, ο εξανθρωπισμός των ζώων μου αφήνει ανάμεικτα συναισθήματα.

ou ming είπε...

Δεν έχεις κι άδικο, aerosol. Από την άλλη, ένας σκύλος που ζει με ανθρώπους εξανθρωπίζεται ούτως ή άλλως. Επίσης, λίγο σκύλος γίνεται κι ο άνθρωπος.