The river love sky

  My best friend NPW has been picking up dead dogs on the side of the road. He drove mile after mile, and the corner of his eyes kept glancing at both sides of the road, watching for small piles of dim fur. He would put the blood-stained dog carcass into a black garbage bag, and then put it in a large plastic refrigerator (he “save” it out from a summer hunting lodge in the north); then, in his car After a crunching journey behind the rusty truck, these dogs finally came to our basement, where NPW separated their skins. I like dogs, but I’m so allergic that I can’t keep one. When I was a child, I always wanted to grow up to become a Welsh Corgi, but in fact I do look like a Corgi, with a long back and thick legs. Like Corgi, there are some small jobs that are most suitable for me-such as taking a newspaper or something. If NPW is a dog, he must be a Kata Howrah Leopard Dog, alert and violent, born to hunt wild boars.
  NPW said: “Come on, Adriana. Explain the difference between a deer and a dog.”
  I said: “One is an ungulate, the other is a canine. One has long hooves, one has long claws. One Kind of eating fruits and nuts, a kind of eating ground food and small pieces of meat.”
  NPW said: “I let you speak from a perceptual point of view.”
  We were standing in the kitchen, below is the basement. I imagine the different stages after the dogs die: complete stage, partial skinning stage, complete skinning stage, and filling stage. NPW said that he is not going to make these dogs into specimens recently, but to make some other things, some new things. But he is a professional taxidermist, so what else can he do? He will move out next month. There are many things I will miss, but he walked around the place full of dirty dog ​​corpses. From the age of eight to now, we have been friends for more than 20 years, and every few years we have a big fight; maybe this is the way to test true friends. Now, for these dogs, we are most likely to have another anniversary quarrel. I would rather yell at him. I was angry with him for other reasons, but my conscience did not allow me to quarrel with him for that reason.
  ”Deer is just a deer,” I said, “but those dogs have been loved. Someone has touched their fur, kissed their noses, called their names, looked for their tracks, and knew they would never return. I won’t be home, and I
  ’ll cry for them.” NPW folded his chest with his hands, and the tattoos on his arms were exposed. “So if a certain animal was used as a container of human love before death, we should treat their carcasses differently?”
  ”Dogs are not containers.” I said, “They will reward you with love! Deer don’t understand love at all. ”
  You can’t define’love’ in a human way,” he said. I couldn’t win this argument, so I left the room.
  That night, I dreamed that I was an apple falling on the ground and fell in love with a deer. I exuded a sweet smell. The brown decay made my appearance no longer round. A group of ants emptied my heart. In addition to their jaws chewing on my soft flesh, another mouth was also bowing at this moment. Come down and touch me. I felt the deer’s soft lips and yellow front teeth. I slid down its tongue as if walking through a confined and dark canyon. At this moment, I fell in love with it. It is a kind of love that is not mixed with human feelings, and does not carry any desires. It occurs in an eternal and completely obedient swallowing process. When I woke up, there were a few dry leaves and two live ants on the bed. Looking in the mirror, I found a blade of grass stuck to my cheek, which looked like tears, but tasted like cider.
  NPW eats a large plate of eggs in the kitchen and he is trying to gain muscle. A smell of incense and wax floated from the basement. When I walked in, he raised his head and watched me fork out of the pan on the stove and taste the egg. He was really a monster without salt.
  ”Are you going to show me what you are doing below?” I asked.
  He said: “Not yet.”
  A faint and sad bark came from somewhere nearby, as if it was right under our feet. To cover up the voice, NPW said loudly, “Should we visit your mother today?”
  I don’t want to get angry with him anymore. “Yes.”
  Early-onset Alzheimer’s disease took away my mother’s sanity. She could only be admitted to a nursing home in Rochester, an hour and a half drive from Minneapolis, and I didn’t have a car. I got into the NPW truck, pretending that I didn’t see the reefer box behind and the heavy garbage bag under the passenger seat. The weather in May is also too hot, at least I think so-the weather is not the same as before. I was fiddling with the air conditioner while NPW was talking on the phone with his girlfriend Robbie, and the two of them quarreled while finalizing some details of his move. She has been pestering him to move to the north to live with her. They quarreled to comfort each other, not to draw a conclusion, because they all knew well that he would move there eventually; the question was only when Move, and it depends on me. He didn’t want to leave me alone. After all, my mother is in that situation now, and I always waste the whole afternoon crying on the dining table. But then he got a job teaching taxidermy in a private school over there. In order to keep him better, the other party also planned to give him a studio, starting on June 1. That’s the job he dreams of, how can he refuse it? I don’t blame him, but I still blame him in my heart.
  ”Say hello to Adriana!” Robbie yelled, and her soft voice came out of the speaker and turned into a high-pitched metallic shout. Although I tried not to hate her, I actually didn’t work hard on this point, so I didn’t respond to her a word. After a while, NPW shook his head at me and hung up.
  As we walked outside the city, there was a protest on the bridge. The speed of NPW is about three miles per hour, and we passed by a group of sweaty friends. He rolled down the car window, and a rush of heat surged in. It was a group of guys with tattoos, black shorts and work boots. Everyone dullly reached into the car window and clashed their fists with NPW. They also greeted me and asked me where I was. Why didn’t they see I. Work is too busy, I said, too much work.
  This is not a lie. I really have been busy with work, saving money for living alone in our low-level duplex apartment in the future, until I find a roommate that I like like NPW, or half-like it. But my job is not ideal for me: I work in a moving company and antique shop, emptying the house for the newly deceased, selling what can be sold in the house, and then disposing of the rest. I once loved my job and was obsessed with getting involved in other people’s lives. However, since my father passed away, my mother moved away, and I cleaned up my childhood home, this job has brought me a new kind of Vibes.
  The crowded traffic was evacuated, and Highway 52 appeared unobstructed under the clear blue sky. NPW pointed to my backpack, which was placed at my feet. “Let’s take an apple and eat.” He said. I took it out, gave it to him, and picked one myself. I wiped it with my shirt before eating, and he took a big bite. The voice sounded very textured, biting the juice-filled flesh in a perfect click, reminding me of the dream of being eaten by a deer, and the kind of non-human, purposeless love I felt. I ate an apple in two states of love, chewed and thought repeatedly. After abandoning the concept of digestion, I found that human love is no more noble and powerful than non-human love. NPW threw the core of the fruit he had eaten out of the car window and shouted at it: “Grow into a tree!”