第3部分(第1/7 页)

dog　drawn　on　rough　paper　hastily　but　with　a　certain　elegance。　He　was　giving

voice　to　the　dog；　and　pointing；　from　time　to　time；　at　the　drawing。

12

I　AM　A　DOG

As you can doubtless tell； dear friends； my canines are so long and pointed

they　barely　fit　into　my　mouth。　I　know　this　gives　me　a　menacing　appearance；

but　it　pleases　me。　Noticing　the　size　of　my　teeth；　a　butcher　once　had　the　gall　to

say；　“My　God；　that’s　no　dog　at　all；　it’s　a　wild　boar！”

I bit him so hard on the leg that my canines sank right through his fatty

flesh to the hardness of his thighbone。 For a dog； you see； nothing is as

satisfying　as　sinking　his　teeth　into　his　miserable　enemy　in　a　fit　of　instinctual

wrath。　When　such　an　opportunity　presents　itself；　that　is；　when　my　victim；　who

deserves to be bitten； stupidly and unknowingly passes by； my teeth twinge

and ache in anticipation； my head spins with longing and without even

meaning　to；　I　emit　a　hair…raising　growl。

I’m　a　dog；　and　because　you　humans　are　less　rational　beasts　than　I；　you’re

telling　yourselves；　“Dogs　don’t　talk。”　Nevertheless；　you　seem　to　believe　a　story

in　which　corpses　speak　and　characters　use　words　they　couldn’t　possibly　know。

Dogs　do　speak；　but　only　to　those　who　know　how　to　listen。

Once　upon　a　time；　long；　long　ago；　in　a　faraway　land；　a　brash　cleric　from　a

provincial　town　arrived　at　one　of　the　largest　mosques　in　a　capital　city；　all　right；

let’s　call　it　the　Bayazid　Mosque。　It’d　be　appropriate　to　withhold　his　name；　so

let’s　refer　to　him　as　“Husret　Hoja。”　But　why　should　I　cover　up　anything　more：

This man was one bonehead