It was a wild night: shrouded moon, deer stampeding through the woods, and a piercing scream from the underbrush. Have you ever heard a rabbit scream? Depending on your proclivities, it can be quite exhilarating. Buko, especially, loves the chase. But all of us on this night connected with our lupine selves. Escape foiled, mortality inevitable. Poor wabbit.The human didn't really know what had happened (as is so often the case). Since we emerged from the underbrush with empty, blood-free jowls, he assumed the critter got away. The light of morning revealed the tragedy. Not only that, rigor mortis had cemented the carcass in place. Add below-freezing temperatures, the rabbit still hangs, a small monument to what we once were.
2 comments:
Oooh, quite deep! I say it's Dog Art! As impressive as that dreck the apes do, eh??
wally.
Wally, you are so right! We have been studying the history of performance art... We're invested in the performative body interrogating species identity construction as well as gender.
Then again, we do just like chasing little critters that scream. Hee hee.
BJN
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