Yuka

I think my holiday travels this year were an exceptional experience. As such, I found it hard to summarize and describe in any kinds of usual blog entries. Instead, I decided to write a short piece that, I think, captures one aspect of the journey in a fictional form (though based on real events). This is in many ways an experiment for me, as I have only really written a story once before in my life (an unfinished one, at that!). This story is a very clear combination of fact and fiction and I especially feel strange about describing Gustave and me in the third person as well as the way we act. Hence constructive criticism is appreciated. So much for the introduction, here goes...

Yuka loved running. Especially after things thrown by humans. Especially after the yellow rubber ball that was covered in pimples and squealed if squeezed. She loved the thrill of chasing down that ball (or a twig or a stone or a cone, anything, really), snatching it up from the ground or out of the air and then triumphantly trotting back to the human with the catch in her mouth. She loved the sound of the wind in her ears and the pebbles under her feet as she ran down her prey in the yard of the orange plantation she lived in.

The plantation consisted of several orange-tree fields tucked in between two rocky hills and a walled compound consisting of a house, yard and a pool. Apart from Yuka, this compound was inhabited by her Owner, his wife and their two children, though one never knows if Yuka thought of them that way. There was also a cat, but it was fairly boring: it either wailed to be let in the house and fed or was gone God knows where. It was just a little smaller than Yuka and she liked to chase after it occasionally or wrestle with it.

Other humans were constantly in the compound, coming and going. Yuka tried to make all of them throw her something at least once. She would follow them around with whatever object she wanted to chase (usually it was the yellow ball), set it on the ground as soon as they would stop or sit down. Sometimes she even nudged it in their direction with her nose with a facial expression, that showed utter longing and anticipation. If it so happened that one of the humans gave into her pleas and picked up the object to throw it, Yuka would focus on the human's hand while trying simultaneously to predict in which direction the object will be thrown. As soon as the object left the human's hand, the dog would take off after it as if upon its successful retrieval depended the fate of the free (and maybe even the not so free) world.

Yuka's obsession with retrieving things was so strong that she could follow humans around for a very long time no matter where they were going, because she never abandoned the hope that someone might throw her something.

When two new strangers arrived at the compound late one night in the Owner's van, Yuka was asleep. The next morning, however, she submitted them to the same treatment as all the inhabitants of the compound, permanent and temporary. She noticed right away, that these strangers were unusually tall, taller than most of the other humans she saw in the compound. One had long black hair, walked around barefoot and seldom spoke. The other had reddish hair and wore glasses.

Both strangers, to Yuka's delight, seemed to enjoy playing with her from the start. Even though their enthusiasm waned slightly after she had retrieved various objects several dozen times in a row, they still were considerably more eager to oblige her with a throw or two than the local humans, those being a bit jaded in this respect.

Of the two, the stranger with the long hair tended to spend more time with Yuka. He would pick up her yellow ball, get a few huge steps head start, and then hurl it as far as he could, which tended to be limited by the bushes and the walls of the compound. Yuka for her part would race to where the ball fell and bring it back to the stranger, then the procedure would repeat. During one of these throwing and retrieval sessions, he tried to pet her. She dropped on her stomach and squirmed a bit. She did not like being touched. It reminded her of her previous owners, the ones she had before she was taken in by the Owner of the Plantation.

As for the red-haired stranger, Yuka saw him walk out through the main gate one moonlight night and, as was usual for her, followed him. He started walking up one of the hills around the plantation, stopped for a second to exchange some phrases with the other stranger and the Owner, then continued walking down the path that led westwards from the farm. Yuka followed.

To be continued...