I walked along the beach to get the internet cafe, and passed a woman yanking what looked like a tiny, very furry dog on a piece of string. It was terrified out of its wits.
I stopped and asked her what kind of dog it was. It was a fox cub. At that point another dog owner plus a very big, scary dog, walked past. The fox cub cowered in terror. The big dog barked, and the cub leaped away, choking on its string. The stupid woman was oblivious.
She walked on. I watched the cub desperately trying to walk away from the water’s edge, into the grass, and constantly be yanked so that it stumbled and choked. I ran after the woman and asked her if she was aware how terrified the cub was. She said it’s not scared, if I try to carry it, it tries to get away from me.
No fucking kidding. She walked off and I let her. I wish I hadn’t. I boiled inside, and now I want to see her be hurt and terrified as much as the innocent, creature she has power over. I should have followed her and done something. WHY DID I LET HER GO?
I’m haunted by the poor animal’s tiny face, so alert and alive with a wild electricity. Terrified. It’s how I felt as a child. Huh.