Douglas Adams once said, ‘Time is an illusion. Lunchtime, doubly so’. I do not disagree with him. It’s been ten years, but only on the calendars. In my head, it’s as if it was just yesterday...
...It was the summer of 2004; bright, sunny and soothing. The time of the year when the community parks are crowded. When the barbeque grill owners make more than the usual. When the girls wear floral dresses or barely anything. When the world is a happier place and beer is the most preferred drink. The kind of English weather that is often considered a myth.
That day, I was walking my dog to the City Central park, the closest park from my house in the late afternoon. Unlike humans, dogs do not care about the time of the year or maybe they do. I can’t tell.
Sensing the dog wanted to have a little playful time, I took out the plastic bone from my pocket and threw it in the air. The dog by his very nature, ran after it and brought it back to me. I repeated it; once, twice, thrice. Until I threw it far away and it dropped inside a shiny object.
The dog ran after it, but he didn't return soon. I noticed his disturbing body language from far. His head was stuck in a jar. A pickle jar. Seeing him grapple I ran up to him and saw him scuffling with himself. As if he was being dragged to death by something unknown. I wouldn't deny the fact that it did tickle me a little. Yes I am a horrible person at times. When push come to shove, I tried pulling the jar, but he panted and I couldn't bear it. Five minutes of struggle and no results almost made me give up.
The next moment, I saw a fine lady picking the dog up and rushing towards the north.I followed her without questioning her intentions. Obviously a dog stealer doesn't like a dog with a pickle jar stuck to his head and an impatient owner right behind her. She rushed to the nearest vet and got him rescued just before he was about to die. I was ashamed, that it didn't occur to me first.